THE  LIBRARY 

OF 
THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


NEVER  AGAIN 


W.  S.  MAYO,  M.D., 

AUTHOR      OF      "KALOOLAH,"      "THE     BERBER,      ETC. 


NEW  YORK: 

G.    P.    PUTNAM'S    SONS, 

FOUBTH  AVENUE  AND  23D  STBEET. 
1873. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1872,  by 

G.  P.  PUTNAM  &  SONS, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


POOLH  &  MACLAUCHI.AN, 

PKINTKRS  AND  BOOKIIINDKRS, 

205-213  East  i2tk  -SV. 


PS 


DEDICATION. 


TO    MISS    SUSAN    R.  BILKERS. 

IT  must  seem  strange,  my  dear  Miss  Bilkers,  not 
only  to  you,  but  to  members  of  your  set,  that  I 
should  venture  to  connect  the  name  of  such  a  fashion 
able  girl  as  yourself  with  anything  so  out  of  fashion 
as  a  dedication,  and  especially  a  dedication  of  what 
does  not  pretend  to  be  a  pure  work  of  art ;  not 
even  a  novel  with  a  moral,  or  a  novel  with  a  pur 
pose  ;  but  simply  a  tale  with  a  tail,  and  this  tail 
without  sting  or  venom,  and  in  no  ways  distinguish 
able  except  by  a  few  harmless  rattles  that  can  hurt 
nothing  and  nobody.  It  must  seem,  I  say,  strange — 
perhaps  presumptuous — to  you  and  your  excellent 
mother,  to  whom  you  owe  so  much  of  your  early 
training ;  but  I  have  a  good  reason,  in  my  excessive 
admiration  not  only  of  your  mind  and  person,  but 
of  your  style  in  general.  I  have  watched  you  on 
many  occasions  with  interest,  and  you  must  permit 
me  to  say,  with  an  ever-growing  conviction  that 
there  are^  very  few  girls  in  society  quite  equal  to 
you. 


IV  DEDICATION. 

It  is  admitted  that  the  days  of  the  old-fashioned, 
cold,  hard,  and  haughty,  but  quiet,  fine-ladyism  have 
passed ;  and  in  its  place,  we  have  the  active,  the 
aggressive,  the  impetuously  pert  and  energetically 
arrogant  style.  Of  this  style,  you  are,  I  believe,  my 
dear  Miss  Bilkers,  one  of  the  most  happy  examples. 
The  demonstrative  insouciance,  if  I  may  be  allowed 
the  expression,  with  which  you  twist  your  lithe  figure 
through  the  mazes  of  the  cotillion — the  insolent  vigor 
with  which  you  repel  the  contact  of  common  peo 
ple,  at  ball  or  party — the  active  contemptuousness 
with  which  you  stare  down  nobodies  as  they  stroll 
the  piazza  of  the  watering  place  hotel — or  still  more, 
that  ineffable  expression  of  combative  arrogance — that 
"  slap-your-face-for- two-cents"  kind  of  a  look — that 
beams  from  every  feature  as  you  roll  along  in  your 
carriage  through  Bellevue  Avenue,  or  the  drives  in 
the  Park — all,  all  have  often  excited  my  admira 
tion,  and  now  fully  warrant  this  public  tribute  of 
regard  and  esteem  from  your  humble  friend. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

DESIGNED  AND  ENGRAVED  BY  G ASTON  FAY. 


MR.  LEDGERAL  AT  BADEN,   

PAGE. 

•     Frontispiece. 

LUNCH  AT  DELMONICO'S     

"Nothing  but  ghosts  of  ideas." 

-       ••     107 

MORNING  CALL,  ------- 

"An  outside  heresy,  my  dear  Mrs.  Struggles," 

-     142 

LUTHER'S  DREAM,        

"Beautiful,  isn't  it?" 

-     228 

"LET  ME  BEGUILE   YOUR   THOUGHTS  AWHILE," 

.         .         .     243 

"THE  KAISER'S  CHILD  is  IN  HIS  ARMS," 

-     245 

"AND  TOTTERS   ON   HER  WAY,"   - 

-     247 

"BENEATH  HIS  EYES  THE  COURTYARD  LIES,"    - 

-     248 

"THE  WONDROUS  DURANDALL,"         - 

-     249 

"THE  KAISER  SMILED,  THEN  LIFTS  HIS  CHILD," 

-     251 

HELEN  AND  HER  FATHER,  ..... 

-         -         -     368 

"  I  don't  want  any  husband." 

Miss  JONES'  BREAKFAST  TABLE,         -        -        -        -        -        -457 

"The  Doctor  does  us  the  honor  to  propose  a  conundrum." 

MRS.  STICHEN'S  BOUDOIR,  -        -      • .        .        .       .        .        .    535 

"Mr.  Hoggs,  may  I  talk  plainly?" 

THE  RESULT  OF  JOSEPH'S  REFLECTIONS,   -       ....    650 

"Dere's  dem  city  sixes." 

UNCLE  SHIPPEN'S  LECTURE, 668 

"What's  a  million  without  the  principle  of  longevity  ?" 

LUTHER  AND  MRS.  STEIGNITZ,  .......    693 

"Nous  verrons." 


NEVER    AGAIN 


CHAPTER   I. 


PROEMIAL. 


u  *"  I  ^HE  AUSTRIAN  BAND  PLAYS  THIS  EVENING!"  was 
JL  the  announcement,  made  in  all  languages,  to  every 
body,  by  all  the  maitres-d'' hotel,  premiers  gar$ons,  courriers  and 
valets  de  place  of  Baden.  Of  course  there  was  a  rush,  after 
dinner,  for  the  promenade, — enthusiasm  for  Austrian  mili 
tary  music  being,  twenty-five  or  thirty  years  ago,  almost  as 
much  a  test  of  connoisseurship  as  in  the  present  day. 

Every  chair  on  the  colonnade  of  the  Kurhaus,  and  on 
both  sides  of  the  public  walk,  running  between  the  little  kiosk 
occupied  by  the  band  and  the  thronged  portals  of  the  gam 
bling  salons  was  filled,  and  the  walk  itself  was  densely  crowded 
with  a  gay  throng  of  promenaders.  Richly  dressed  women — 
beautiful  and  ugly — old  and  young — from  every  civilized 
clime,  and  gallant  and  graceful  men  variously  costumed,  and 
of  all  ages  from  tripping  youth  to  shuffling  senility,  passed 
and  repassed,  bowing  and  smiling,  smirking  and  gesticula 
ting,  and  exhaling  an  odor  of  refined  savoir  vivre  peculiar,  in 
its  intensity,  and  its  entire  freedom  from  any  merely  moral 
or  utilitarian  smells,  to  this  the  greatest  bathing-place,  with 
waters  of  the  least  efficacy  in  Europe. 

Have  you  ever  seen  at  sea,  while  watching  the  dark  massy 


10  NEVER   AGAIN 

waves  rolling  on  in  sullen  and  resistless  power,  a  handful  of 
spray  dashed  upwards  and  converted  into  a  shower  of  dia 
monds  and  rubies  by  a  gleam  of  sun-light  ?  If  so,  you  have 
an  image  of  the  spoon-drift  of  society,  as  it  sparkled  and 
flashed  in  the  lights,  natural  and  artificial,  of  a  lovely  even 
ing  at  Baden. 

The  gambling  salons  were  nearly  empty.  There  had 
been  an  intermission  of  an  hour  or  two  in  the  monotonous 
"faites  votre  jeu  MessUurs  ;  le  jeu  est  fait,'"  of  the  croupiers 
of  the  rouge-et-noir,  and  the  game  had  not  yet  been  opened 
for  the  evening.  The  wheel  of  the  roulette,  however,  at  the 
head  of  the  large  conversation  salle  was  in  motion.  It  al 
ways  is  in  motion.  It  is  said  that  the  oldest  inhabitants  of 
Baden, — those  who  have  lived  through  many  millions  of  its 
revolutions, — have  never  known  it  to  stop.  Friction  and  the 
resistance  of  the  air  have  no  effect  upon  it.  On  it  goes  in 
violation  of  the  plainest  principles  of  mechanics, — in  utter 
contempt  of  the  most  rigid  demonstrations  of  the  impossi 
bility  of  perpetual  motion,  on  forever  and  ever — whirling 
away  yearly  the  wealth,  health,  and  happiness  of  thousands. 
Whether  its  drivers  and  conductors  are  a  different  order  of 
men  from  the  croupiers  of  the  rouge-et-noir  is  a  matter  of 
doubt ;  but  certain  it  is  that  they  never  sleep,  and  require 
nothing  to  eat.  There  are  intermissions  with  the  cards,  which 
indicate  a  connection  between  the  impassible  shufflers  and  or 
dinary  humanity ;  but  the  ball  of  the  roulette  is  not  less  regu 
lar  and  continuous  in  its  revolutions  than  the  balls  of  the 
solar  system. 

It  was  the  hour  of  ebb  in  the  gambling  tide, — the  time 
for  the  minnows  and  small  fry, — the  singlo  silver-florin 
folks  who  have  already  repocketed  their  cure-dents  and  swal 
lowed  their  pousse-caf  is  and/«#.r  verres.  Wait  an  hour  and 
the  big  fish  will  begin  to  show  themselves,  the  tide  will  turn, 
and  a  flood,  with  a  rush  like  the  bore  in  the  Hoogly  or  the 
Bay  of  Funda,  will  set  in  and  cover  the  green  cloth  banks 
with  a  sediment  of  gold. 

Gathered  around  the  roulette  are  a  dozen  or  so  of  couriers, 


NEVER  AGAIN.  H 

soiis-officiers,  and  students,  with  a  few  ladies'  maids  and  French 
milliners,  together  with  three  or  four  staid,  quiet  heads  of  fam 
ilies,  who,  at  London  or  New  York,  would  cleem  penny  points 
or  sixpenny  loo  the  unpardonable  sin  ;  and  who,  if  compelled 
to  sit  out  a  night  at  euchre  or  vingt-et-un  would  require,  like 
Moses  at  Rephidim,  some  one  to  help  them  hold  up  their 
hands.  Besides  these  there  is  an  English  built,  clerical-look 
ing  gentleman  in  a  white  neck  cloth,  who  is  intently  watching 
the  game  with  his  hand  thrust  down  into  his  pocket  fingering 
a  florin.  "  Put  it  down,  my  dear  sir,  just  for  the  fun  of  the 
thing  ! — it  will  be  so  odd  ;  no  one  knows  you,  and  you  merely 
wish  to  see  whether  pair  will  not  come  up  after  impair  has 
been  called  five  times. 

Far  down  at  the  lower  end  of  the  large  hall  one  solitary  in 
dividual  was  to  be  seen.  The  superior  attractions  of  the  rou 
lette  at  the  upper  end,  and  of  the  music  and  crowd  without, 
had  drawn  off  all  stragglers,  and  left  him  in  undisturbed  pos 
session  of  a  sofa,  and  several  hundred  square  feet  of  solitude. 
He  appeared  to  be,  after  making  all  allowance  for  a  carefully 
studied  toilet,  a  man  of  about  fifty-five  years  of  age,  and  was 
evidently  an  invalid.  His  figure  was  slight  and  somewhat 
bent,  his  complexion  pale  and  unhealthy,  his  cheeks  hollow, 
his  eyes  sunken,  and  his  lips  bloodless  and  thin.  An  enor 
mous  mustache,  dyed  a  deep  black,  rested  upon  the  inclined 
plane  of  his  projecting  front  teeth,  and,  contrasting  oddly  with 
his  scanty  gray  locks,  added  an  expression  of  fierceness  to  a 
face  deeply  marked  by  the  play  of  uncurbed  appetites  and 
passions.  Still,  there  was  something  in  his  appearance  that 
excited  interest  and  commanded  respect.  An  air  of  exquis 
ite  refinement  and  high  breeding  concealed,  at  first  sight, 
almost  wholly  the  natural  repulsiveness  of  his  expression,  and 
served  to  confirm  a  conjecture,  warranted  by  his  elaborate  and 
finished,  yet  quiet,  style  of  dress,  that  he  was  a  man  of  high 
social  position,  if  not  of  rank.  A  practised  observer  might, 
perhaps,  have  gone  still  further  and  have  marked  him  down 
as  an  aristocratic  rouu  ;  old  before  his  time,  and  bowed  with  the 
weight,  not  of  years,  but  of  days  and  nights  of  vice  and  folly, 


12  NEVER  AGAIN. 

He  was  reclining  upon  the  sofa  in  an  attitude  of  affected 
ease,  that  but  poorly  concealed  a  sense  of  debility  and  lassi 
tude.  He  appeared  to  be  lost  in  thought  of  no  very  pleasant 
kind,  to  judge  from  the  frown  on  his  brow,  and  the  impatient 
gnawing  of  his  thin  lip.  But  of  whatever  character  his  reve 
rie,  he  was  roused  from  it  by  a  servant  in  a  plain  suit  of 
black  who,  with  a  letter  in  his  hands,  had  been  peering  about 
through  the  different  rooms. 

The  reclining  gentleman  took  the  letter  with  a  listless  air, 
glanced  carelessly  at  the  address,  and  suddenly  started  from 
his  recumbent  attitude,  with  a  gesture  of  vexation,  and  a  few 
muttered  objurgations  in  French. 

"  Has  any  one  seen  this  ?  "  he  demanded  of  the  man. 

"No  one,  Durchlaucht.  I  have  just  taken  it  from  the 
post.  I  thought  it  best  to  bring  it  to  you  at  once  without 
waiting  your  Excellency's  return  to  the  hotel." 

"  'Tis  very  well,  Steignitz.  I  am  glad  that  no  one  has  seen 
this  address.  But  you  forget  that  I  have  forbidden  you  to 
style  me  Excellency  or  Durchlaucht.  Recollect  that  I  am 
plain  Monsieur  D'Okenheim." 

"  Permit  me  to  observe,"  replied  Steignitz,  "  that  I  see 
here  almost  fifty  people  who  know  us." 

"  True !  I  am  not  such  a  fool  as  to  think  that  an  incog 
nito  can  be  preserved  at  Baden.  But  fifty  people  are  not 
everybody.  I  have  my  reasons  for  being  Monsieur  D'Oken 
heim  to  all  strangers.  Where  is  Madame  ? " 

"  Der  Herr  will  find  her  outside,  directly  in  front  of  this 
lower  window." 

"  Alone  ? " 
"  No,  she  is  attended  by  Herrn  Ledgeral." 

Herr  D'Okenheim's  face  was  a  study — the  expression  was 
so  peculiar,  and  so  complex.  A  deep  frown  corrugated  his 
forehead,  and  his  shaggy  eyebrows  were  drawn  down  so  as 
to  almost  conceal  the  pinkish,  lustreless  eyes  they  shaded ; 
while  his  heavy  mustache  was  thrown  upwards,  and  the  corn 
ers  of  his  mouth  twisted  into  a  smile  of  mingled  malice  and 
pleasure. 


,     NEVER  AGAIN.  13 

He  waved  his  hand.  Steignitz  bowed  and  depaited  to 
rejoin  Annette,  Madame,  D'Okenheim's  French  maid,  who 
was  awaiting  him  for  a  stroll  in  the  avenue  of  Lichtenthal. 

Monsieur  D'Okenheim,  with  a  trembling  hand,  broke  the 
seal  of  his  letter,  and  began  to  read.  As  he  read,  his  frown 
grew  deeper,  and  what  there  had  been  of  a  smile,  gave  place 
to  an  expression  of  pure  rage.  He  crushed  the  letter  in  his 
hand,  and,  starting  from  his  seat,  paced  up  and  down  with 
vivacious,  but  uncertain  step. 

Approaching  the  window,  indicated  by  his  servant,  he 
looked  out  upon  the  crowd.  His  eye  lighted  at  once  upon  a 
gentleman  and  lady  seated  directly  below  him,  and  again  his 
face  was  illumined  with  an  equivocal  smile.  He  stood  gazing 
at  them  for  some  time,  one  hand  crumpling  the  letter — the 
other  nervously  twisting  the  ends  of  his  long  mustache. 

"  All  alike  ! — yes,  all  alike  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  really 
had  begun  to  believe  that  there  were  exceptions,  and  that 
my  wife  would  prove  one  of  them ;  but  I  am  rather  glad 
to  be  undeceived.  I  am  rather  glad  at  being  relieved  from 
the  distinction  of  possessing  such  a  rara  avis  as  a  virtuous 
wife. 

"  Virtue  !  "  he  muttered,  renewing  his  walk.  "  Bah  ! 
what  is  virtue  ?  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it — in  man  or 
woman.  It  is  a  hybrid — a  monster — an  unnatural  affirmative, 
born  of  the  conjunction  of  two  negatives — no  passions  and  no 
opportunities.  Opportunities  and  importunities  have  not 
been  wanting  in  her  case.  She  has  been  too  long  the  com 
panion  of  the  Princess  of  Stacklenberg  for  that.  It  must 
have  been  her  cold  heart  that  has  kept  her  reputation  so  far 
clear  of  stain.  I  had  begun  to  think  that  it  was  her  clever 
ness — that,  as  Shakespeare  has  it,  she  ever  "put  out  the  fire 
of  passion  with  the  sap  of  reason."  But  cleverness  never 
saves  them.  The  sap  of  reason  dries  up  when  most  needed. 
But  why  has  the  fire,  in  her  case,  never  been  lighted  ? — that's 
what  puzzles  me.  There  was  the  Count  Hunoyd  ! — I  thought 
at  one  time  it  might  be  my  duty  to  put  a  sword  through  the 
handsomest  man  in  Vienna ;  but  no,  she  extinguished  him 


I4  NEVER  AGAIN. 

herself  without  the  slightest  suggestion  from  me.     And  now 
— well,  as  the  wisest  of  all  poets  says : 

'"  In  some  breasts  passion  lies  concealed  and  silent, 
Like  war's  swart  posvder  in  a  castle  vault, 
Until  occasion  like  the  lintstock  lights  it.' 

Perhaps  the  Yankee  carries  the  lintstock. 

"  Strange  !  strange  !  "  he  continued,  advancing  to  the 
window,  and  looking  out  upon  his  wife  and  her  companion. 
"  It  must  be  just  the  perversity  of  the  sex.  Were  I  a  doting, 
uxorious,  jealous  husband,  my  wife,  I  do  not  doubt,  would 
have  counted  her  lovers  by  the  score ;  and  now  this  Yankee 
is  the  first  man  in  whom  she  has  taken  any  real  interest.  I 
should  not  have  thought  that  the  self-conceited  gauky  could 
have  stirred  that  smooth-polished,  well-balanced  mechanism 
she  calls  her  heart.  However,  I  must  tell  her  of  this  letter. 
It  will  distress  her,  I  know;  but  then  she  knows  how  and 
where  to  seek  for  consolation." 

Monsieur  D'Okenheim  seized  his  hat  and  stick,  and,  with 
an  affected  jauntiness  of  step,  sallied  from  the  Kurhaus. 
Threading  his  way,  not  without  difficulty,  through  the  crowd, 
he  advanced  to  the  couple  whose  movements  he  had  been 
watching.  • 

The  lady — Madame  D'Okenheim — was  a  distinguished 
looking  woman  of  about  eight-and-twenty  years  of  age.  She 
had  a  fine,  stylish  figure,  almost  perfect,  unless  perhaps  an 
imperfection  might  be  found  in  a  decided  promise  of  fat  at 
forty ;  and  she  had  a  face  which,  if  not  unqualifiedly  hand 
some,  had  a  great  deal  of  that  kind  of  beauty  which  is  the 
exponent  of  youth  and  high  health — large  liquid  lustrous  eyes, 
as  yet  undimmed  by  gas-light  and  ball-room  glare — skin  pure 
and  polished,  as  yet  untinted  and  unroughened  by  matutinal 
champagne  and/#/t!  de  foie  gras — pearly  teeth,  and  ruby  lips 
that  spoke  only  of  sound  lungs,  and  a  good  digestion,  and 
said  nothing  about  a  compressed  liver,  and  an  obstructed 
portal  circulation.  Not  the  highest  style  of  beauty  it  may  be. 
Not  perhaps  beauty  at  all ;  but  the  highest  condition  of 


NEVER  AGAIN.  15 

beauty, — the  sine  qua  non  of  beauty, — the  something  without 
which  beauty,  unless  in  some  rare  cases,  don't  amount  to 
much  ;  or,  to  mount  a  metaphor,  the  animal  on  which  spiritual 
and  intellectual  beauty — the  beauty  of  soul  and  mind — gallops 
through  the  avenues  of  sense  into  the  heart.  Of  course  if 
the  animal  is  out  of  condition,  beauty  can't  ride  fast  or  far. 
She  is  very  apt  to  stop  short  of  the  portals  of  passion,  and 
"  hitch  up  "  at  the  door  of  respect  and  esteem.  Let  it  not  be 
supposed  from  this  figurative  flourish,  that  Madame  D'Oken- 
heim  was  deficient  in  the  beauty  of  expression.  All  that  is 
meant  is  that  she  was  healthily  handsome.  A  charming 
toilet  set  off  all  the  graces  of  her  person  to  the  best  advan 
tage,  while  the  effect  was  very  much  heightened  by  an  easy 
but  quiet  graciousness  of  manner,  and  a  certain  aura  of  ban 
ten  which  she  seemed  to  breathe  out  at  every  word  and  move 
ment.  Her  style  clearly  indicated  study  in  the  Viennese 
school,  which  is  to  manners  pretty  much  what  the  Venetian 
school  was  to  art — a  happy  mingling  of  vivacity  and  repose 
in  the  composition,  with  the  flesh  tints  strong  and  hearty;  the 
general  tone  rich  and  warm,  with  a  very  faithful  and  substan 
tial  rendering  of  sentiment  and  passion. 

Her  companion  was,  perhaps,  twenty-three  years  of 
age.  He,  too,  was  rather  good  looking.  Tall,  and  somewhat 
lanky  in  figure,  but  withal  graceful  and  easy  in  his  bearing, 
there  was  perhaps  a  little  too  much  of  an  attempt  at  elegance 
in  his  general  getting  up — the  necessary  and  pardonable 
effect  of  his  recent  emancipation  from  certain  puritanic  prej 
udices,  as  well  as  from  a  certain  provincialism  in  dress, 
which  at  that  time  still  characterized  the  great  commercial 
metropolis  of  America,  but  which  has  now  so  happily  disap 
peared. 

The  eldest  son  of  Mr.  Ledgeral, — a  reputable  New  York 
merchant, — he  had  been  dispatched  to  Liverpool,  a  few 
months  before,  for  the  settlement  of  some  business  question, 
requiring  a  confidential  agent  on  the  part  of  Ledgeral,  Ship- 
pen  and  Co.  His  business  having  been  satisfactorily  arranged, 
young  Ledgeral  was  now  enjoying,  preparatory  to  his  return 


1 6  NEVER   AGAIN. 

to  the  dingy  counting-house  in  Burling  Slip,  a  few  months'  run 
upon  the  continent. 

It  was  at  Frankfort  that  he  first  made  the  acquaintance 
of  Monsieur  and  Madame  D'Okenheim.  He  was  trying  to 
make  himself  understood  by  the  custode'  of  the  Wahlzimmer, 
or  election  chamber  of  the  German  Emperors,  but  inasmuch 
as  he  knew  not  a  word  of  German,  and  but  very  little  French, 
he  was  turning  away  with  a  feeling  of  profound  disgust  at  the 
fellow's  stupidity,  when  a  pleasant  voice  came  to  his  relief 
with  a  "  Permit  me — I  will  explain,"  and  Madame  D'Oken 
heim,  in  alternate  English  and  German,  cleared  up  all  diffi 
culties.  Monsieur  D'Okenheim  coming  up,  and  he,  too,  speak 
ing  English,  the  conversation  was  continued.  Together  they 
saw  the  famous  Golden  Bull,  or  Deed,  by  which  Charles  IV. 
settled  the  mode  of  election  of  the  German  Emperors,  and 
visited  the  Kaisersaal,  or  banqueting-room,  where  the  Em 
perors  were  waited  upon  by  Kings  and  Princes.  Again  they 
met,  bowed,  and  spoke,  in  the  Jfudengasse,  one  of  the  chief 
sights  in  Frankfort,  and  at  dinner-time,  as  luck  would  have  it, 
Mr.  Ledgeral  found  himself  at  the  table  d'hote  the  vis-a-vis  of 
Madame. 

Upon  his  expressing  a  wish  to  visit  Homburg,  a  seat  in 
Monsieur  D'Okenheiin's  carriage,  for  next  day,  was  offered 
him,  and  as  Madame  backed  the  invitation  with  a  bewitching 
smile,  and  an  assurance  that  she  should  be  charmed  to  have 
his  company,  it  was  most  gratefully  accepted. 

Every  traveller  knows  how  rapidly  an  acquaintanceship 
ripens  under  such  circumstances :  one  sight-seeing  excursion 
having  about  as  much  forcing  power  as  a  round  of  dinner  or 
evening  parties  and  a  dozen  or  two  of  morning  calls.  It  is 
not  surprising  therefore,  that  during  the  ride  to  Homburg  it 
should  have  been  found  that  Baden-Baden  was  the  destina 
tion  of  all  parties,  and  that  there  was  again  a  seat  for  Mr. 
Ledgeral  in  Monsieur  D'Okenheim's  travelling  carriage. 

There  was  a  freshness  of  feeling  and  expression  about 
the  young  man  that  interested  Madame  D'Okenheim,  who, 
accustomed  since  extreme  youth  to  the  polished  and  doubly 


NEVER  AGAIN.  17 

refined,  but  heartless,  and  dissipated  society  of  mediatized 
German  Princes,  and  the  haute  noblesse  of  Austria  and  Hun 
gary,  was  thoroughly  blase.  His  occidentalities  had  for  her 
the  charm  of  novelty.  They  affected  her  taste  very  much  as 
the  flavor  of  a  canvas-back  duck  does  the  palate  of  an  Euro 
pean  epicure, — as  a  something  dubiously  delightful. 

There  was  also  a  certain  degree  of  mingled  verdancy  and 
shrewdness — a  kind  of  Yankee  naivete, — mixed  with  a  good 
proportion  of  self  conceit,  that  seemed  for  a  time  to  amuse 
Monsieur  D'Okenheim,  who  soon  managed,  with  the  skill  of 
a  diplomatist  and  man  of  the  world,  by  a  few  adroit  observa 
tions  and  questions  to  strip  the  vain  and  confident  youth  of 
every  feeling,  sentiment,  and  plan,  leaving  his  inner  man  in 
a  state  of  nudity  which,  had  he  been  conscious  of,  he  him 
self  would  have  been  the  first  to  denounce  as  ridiculous  and 
indecent,  especially  as  with  all  his  "  'cuteness,"  he  got  not  a 
rag  of  Monsieur  D'Okenheim's  mental  habiliments  in  return. 
The  process  complete,  Monsieur  took,  apparently,  but  little 
further  interest  in  his  conversation ;  most  of  the  time,  while 
in  the  carriage,  he  seemed  to  be  asleep,  or,  when  stopping 
to  view  a  ruin  or  a  landscape,  was  so  apathetic  and  indif 
ferent,  so  indisposed  or  unfit  for  exertion,  or  so  attentive  to 
Annette,  the  French  maid,  or  so  taken  up  with  the  talk  of 
guides  and  custodes,  that  the  duty  of  attendance  upon 
Madame  fell  naturally  and  wholly  to  the  young  man. 

The  approach  of  Monsieur  D'Okenheim,  as  he  picked  his 
way  amid  the  crowd  seated  under  the  colonnade  of  the  Kur- 
haus,  was  unnoticed  by  the  lady  or  her  companion  until  he 
stood  before  them.  A  slight  start  and  a  suffusion  of  the 
cheek  in  both  were  not  unobserved  by  him,  but  produced  no 
perceptible  effect  upon  his  manner,  unless  perhaps  to  increase 
the  sinister  smile  with  which  he  addressed  them.  Raising 
his  hat  and  bowing  low,  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  bland  impres- 
siveness :  "  I  am  sorry  to  interrupt  your  conversation,  and  I 
ask  a  thousand  pardons,  but,  Monsieur  Ledgeral,  if  you  will 
have  the  goodness  to  excuse  Madame  for  ten  minutes,  I  have 
a  few  words  to  say  to  her.  I  have  just  received  a  letter,  the 


!g  NEVER  AGAIN. 

contents  of  which  I  wish  to  communicate  to  her.  I  shall 
detain  her  but  a  fe\v  minutes,  when,  Monsieur,  if  you  will 
have  the  goodness  to  take  charge  of  her  again, — that  is,  if 
you  are  not  otherwise  engaged, — you  will,  I  am  sure,  charm 
her  and  oblige  me." 

Madame  D'Okenheim  rose  from  her  seat. 

"  Shall  we  find  you  here  upon  our  return  ? "  she  demanded, 
looking  back  with  an  inviting  smile. 

The  young  man,  blushing  and  bowing,  laid  his  hand  upon 
his  heart  with  theatric,  but  not  ungraceful,  gallantry. 

"I  am  a  statue,"  he  said,  "until  your  return." 

"  As  stationary,  perhaps  ? "  she  replied,  smiling. 

"  Certainly.  But  I  would  not  have  you  think  as  hard  or 
as  cold.  The  great  English  poet  of  whom  we  were  talking, 
says  'the  eyes  of  women  are  Promethean  fires.'  I  have  been 
Prometheusized  ;  my  heart  has  been  touched  by  the  heavenly 
flame,  and  although  I  shall  not  move,  I  shall  live,  and  feel, 
and  hope." 

"  We  shall  not  keep  you  long  waiting,"  exclaimed  Mon 
sieur  D'Okenheim,  who  affected  not  to  hear  these  remarks, 
which,  uttered  in  a  low  tone,  had  nevertheless  too  much  of 
the  penetrating  intensity  of  passion  to  wholly  escape  his  ear. 
"  I  am  anxious  to  resume  my  seat  at  the  table  within.  I  feel 
that  I  shall  be  in  luck  to-night." 

Madame  took  her  husband's  proffered  arm.  A  few  steps 
brought  them  to  the  deserted  piazza,  of  the  Trinkhalle.  Mon 
sieur  looked  cautiously  around  to  see  that  no  one  was  within 
hearing. 

"So/"  he  exclaimed,  pursing  up  his  lips  and  ejecting 
the  sound  with  a  prolonged  hissing  through  his  closed  teeth. 
"So/  ma  belle,  the  Yankee's  gallantry  is  improving,  I  see." 

"Yes,  he  is  coming  on,"  replied  the  lady  carelessly. 
"  He  begins  to  fancy  himself  a  gallant  de  premiere  force,  and 
to  plume  himself  upon  his  conquest" 

"  A  conquest !  Yes,  after  the  fashion  of  the  soldier  who 
captured  the  Tartar.  A  real  Cadmian  victory!  You  have 
heard  the  phrase — 'a  victory  of  Pyrrhus'?  'Another  such 


NEVER  AGAIN.  19 

success,'  said  the  old  king  of  Epirus,  '  and  I  am  ruined ' :  in 
fact  the  conquering  jackanape  is  completely  in  your  power  now ; 
you  could  make  him  hang  himself  with  one  of  your  garters." 

"  I  have  no  wish  that  my  garters  should  be  put  to  such  a 
use ! " 

"  No  ?  Perhaps  you  prefer  that  he  should  go  on  conquer 
ing  and  to  conquer  :  may-be  he  is  nearer  a  conquest  of  your 
heart  than  I  supposed.  Come,  tell  me  what  progress  he  has 
really  made.  Has  he  reached  his  third  parallel  ? — has  he 
crowned  the  crest  of  the  glacis  ? — is  the  citadel  in  danger  ? " 

"  I  don't  understand  barrack-room  figures,"  replied  the 
lady,  contemptuously. 

"  To  be  plain  then,  what  do  you  really  think  of  this  lover 
of  yours  ?  You  know  you  can  trust  me.  It  is  a  great  thing 
for  a  woman  to  be  able  to  trust  her  husband  in  such  matters. 
Come,  tell  me,  is  your  own  heart  wholly  untouched  ? " 

The  struggle  between  a  leer  and  a  sneer,  for  possession 
of  the  speaker's  countenance,  would  have  made  a  study  for 
the  great  illustrator  of  Faust. 

"  Well,  perhaps  not,"  replied  Madame  D'Okenheim  mu 
singly.  "  He  is  good  looking,  and  his  American  conceit  and 
naivete  amuses  me.  Besides,  he  is  so  enterprising.  Why,  the 
fellow  would  have  no  hesitation,  if  he  had  a  chance,  despite 
his  bashfulness,  in  making  love  to  an  Empress.  That  inter 
ests  me,  but  you  have  no  objections,  have  you?  You  know 
you  have  given  me  carte  blanche." 

"  True ;  but  hitherto  you  have  not  seemed  disposed  to 
take  advantage  of  your  privileges.  Do  you  know  the  reasons 
that  I  have  had  for  being  so  liberal  ? " 

"  Because  perversity  is  about  the  only  quality  in  woman 
that  you  believe  in,  and  you  thought  that  removing  all  restric 
tions  would  remove  nine-tenths  of  the  temptation." 

"  Partly  so,  ma  belle." 

"  And  because,  although  you  had  but  little  respect  for  my 
principles,  you  had  for  my  will,  and  you  knew  that  any 
restrictions  you  could  impose  would  be  useless." 

"  Partly  so,  ma  belle." 


20  NEVER   AGAIN. 

"  And  because  you  wished  to  secure  for  yourself  a  similar 
privilege." 

"  What  a  profound  analyst !  My  dear,  motives  are  fre 
quently,  and,  in  my  case,  always,  confused  and  complicated. 
When  I  want  to  know  what  I  mean  myself,  I  shall  in  future 
come  to  you." 

- "  You  flatter  me." 

"  Not  at  all ;  but  I  am  going  to  mention  one  other  reason 
which  is  somewhat  complimentary,  and  which  you  have  left 
out — and  that  is  great  confidence  in  your  prudent  manage 
ment  of  any  case  that  might  arise.  Mind  you,  I  don't  claim 
any  right  to  interfere  with  you,  upon  general  marital  princi 
ples,  but  in  case  of  any  public  scandal  it  might  become  my 
duty,  ydTi  know,  to  send  a  pistol  ball  through  the  gentleman's 
head.  Now  I  don't  like  that ;  I  have  done  it,  perhaps,  half-a- 
dozen  times  too  often  already.  To  be  sure,  the  temptation  to 
add  an  American  to  the  list  might  be  something,"  said  Herr 
D'Okenheim  musingly.  "  But  to  quit  this  pleasant  subject, 
and  come  to  something  downright  disagreeable  and  more 
nearly  affecting  my  feelings." 

Monsieur  D'Okenheim  paused  as  if  taking  time  to  mas 
ter  some  rising  emotion,  and  for  a  moment  his  mustache 
worked  rapidly  up  and  down  the  inclined  plane  of  his  teeth. 

"  I  have  just  received  a  letter  from  my  good  cousin,"  he 
at  length  said  in  a  low,  hissing  tone.  "  Here  it  is,  and  what 
think  you  ? — a  fresh  insult !  He  says  that  he  has  heard  from 
Isenthal,  and,  as  presumptive  heir  to  the  estates,  he  must 
object  to  my  cutting  more  than  a  hundred  klafters  of  wood 
for  the  use  of  the  castle,  and  that  he  forbids  my  damming 
the  river  and  converting  meadow-land  into  ornamental  lake 
and  fish-pond.  He  even  alludes  to  my  failing  health,  and  his 
certain  prospects  of  the  succession,  and  signs  himself  my 
loving  cousin,  Joseph.  The  cold  blooded,  canting  rascal ! 
Ah !  how  I  have  ever  hated  him ;  how  I  do  hate  him !  and 
what's  more,  how  he  hates  me,  and  you  too,  ma  belle!  In 
fact,  I  am  not  sure  but  that  a  good  deal  of  the  feeling  he  has 
for  me,  is  a  reflection  of  the  intense  hate  he  has  for  you." 


NEVER  AGAIN.  21 

"  There  is  no  love  lost  between  us,"  replied  the  lady. 

"  True,  but  he  has  the  advantage  of  you  in  this — he  may 
yet  have  it  in  his  power  to  make  you  feel  how  little  he  loves 
you.  He  lords  it  now  in  a  bold  tone ;  but  what  will  he  do, 
think  you,  when  he  succeeds  to  my  estates  ? " 

"  You  may  well  outlive  him,"  said  Madame  D'Okenheim, 
with  a  slight  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

"  Pshaw  !  "  replied  Monsieur  D'Okenheim  in  an  impatient 
tone,  "  his  life  is  worth  a  dozen  such  as  mine.  But  if  I  die 
within  the  year  I  don't  think  I  could  rest  in  my  grave  were 
he  my  successor.  I'd  sooner  see  the  vilest  beggar's  brat  in 
my  place." 

-  "  And  I  should  have  very  little  rest  out  of  the  grave,  I 
suppose,"  said  Madame,  "but  I  don't  see  how  you  can 
help  it.  You  cannot  be  more  sorry  than  I  am  that  your 
hopes  of  an  heir  have  been  doomed  to  disappointment." 

"  But  they  must  not  be  disappointed,"  returned  Monsieur 
D'Okenheim. 

The  lady  started,  and  looked  up  inquiringly.  "  So  !  A 
leaf  from  the  history  of  Napoleon ;  and  I  am  to  play  the  role 
of  Josephine  !  Ha  !  " 

"  Not  so,  ma  belle ;  you  mistake  me  entirely.  I  have  not 
the  least  hopes  from  anything  of  that  kind." 

The  lady  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  Oh  !  don't  think,  Madame,  that  I  intend  to  reproach  you. 
I  know  better  than  that.  I  know  that  were  we  on  trial  for 
the  crime, — for  crime  it  is,  or  if  not  a  crime,  something  which 
we  have  but  to  search  the  annals  of  the  reigning  houses  of 
Germany  to  find  has  been  punished  far  more  severely  than  a 
crime, — if  we  were  on  trial,  I  say,  for  the  crime  of  not  giving 
a  lot  of  little  hostages  to  fortune,  and  citizens  to  the  State, 
your  sentence  would  be  light  I  know  full  well  that  you 
might,  if  it  pleased  you,  emulate  the  famous  English  Lady 
Godiva,  and  ride  in  a  similar  toilet  through  the  Pays  Latin 
or  the  Alser  Vorstadt,  without  a  single  straggling  pathologist 
being  able  to  raise  his  finger  at  you.  But,  my  dear,  did  you 
never  hear  of  quietly  adopting  an  heir — of  lifting  some 


22  NEVER  AGAIN. 

wayside  waif  into  high  estate — of  buying  some  infantile  re 
sponsibility,  eradicating  the  wooden  spoon  to  which  it  was 
born,  and  sticking  a  silver  forjt  in  its  place  ? " 

"  I  have  read  of  such  things  in  romances." 

"  And  I  have  known  of  such  things  in  real  life." 

"  And  you  would  try  it  ? " 

"No,  no!  /would  never  try  it,"  and  the  Count  empha 
sized  the  "  I  "  with  peculiar  force.  "  I  would  never  run  the 
risk  of  inevitable  exposure  which  always  comes  of  men's 
bungling  in  such  matters.  The  thing  has  been  done,  and  in 
probably  a  good  many  cases  the  succession  has  been  diverted 
by  the  expedient.  But  I  am  afraid  the  difficulties  in  our  case 
are  almost  insuperable,  unless  in  the  hands  of  an  exceed 
ingly  cautious  and  clever  woman.  I  could,  of  course,  have 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  I  merely  mentioned  it  to  show  that 
there  are  more  ways  than  one  of  tying  a  knot  in  the  Devil's 
tail." 

Herr  D'Okenheim  pressed  the  point  of  his  finger  upon  the 
round  shoulder  of  Madame,  and  leered  into  her  face  with  a 
grotesque  grin. 

"  That  is,  you  would  like  to  have  the  knot  tied  without 
your  running  any  risk  from  his  hoof  or  his  horns  ;  or  in  other 
words,  if  any  one  is  19  be  tried  for  attempting  to  foist  a  false 
heir  into  Isenthal,  you  would  rather  it  should  be  your  wife 
than  yourself." 

"  Hush,  my  dear.  Don't  speak  of  such  a  thing.  I  had  no 
such  thought.  I  only  meant  that  supposing  such  a  wicked  and 
foolish  thing  were  attempted,  it  would  certainly  fail  if  it  were 
not  managed  so  that  even  I  could  have  no  suspicion  of  it." 

"  And  you  propose  that  I  should  undertake  a  scheme  so 
liable  to  failure  ? "  demanded  the  lady. 

"  Propose  ?  Oh  no !  It  would  be  wrong,  absurd,  dan 
gerous  !  Consult  Annette,  and  see  what  can  be  done  ;  she 
is  devoted  to  you ;  she  can  be  trusted.  I  propose  nothing. 
I  plan  nothing.  I  have  lost  all  confidence  in  plans.  I  have 
seen  them  so  often  thwarted ;  as  for  instance  in  our  mar 
riage.  I  married  in  the  hopes  of  putting  an  end  to  the 


NEVER  AGAIN.  ^ 

expectations  of  cousin  Joseph.  I  mean  no  disparagement 
to  your  wit,  or  beauty,  or  style. 

"  Ah  !  what  a  misfortune  then  is  mine, — the  more  unbear 
able,  too,  since  I  am  so  moderate  in  my  wishes.  All  that  I. 
desire  is  an  heir,  and  almost  anything  alive  and  human  would 
content  me.  All  people  desire  children,  but  then  they  desire 
prodigies, — but  I  don't.  They  desire  'living  jewels  dropped 
from  heaven,'  as  the  poet  has  it,  but  then  they  want  them 
of  the  clearest  water.  Now  I — I  shouldn't  mind  a  little  im 
perfection.  For  instance,  I  should  not  mind  if  my  heir  looked 
like  the  coarsest  peasant's  child.  I  don't  care  about  beauty. 
A  moderate  amount  of  ugliness — anything  short  of  a  chim 
panzee  or  a  Cape  Baboon — I  should  not  object  to.  Strength 
and  health  !  Yes,  I  should  want  our  heir  to  have  strength 
and  health  that  he  might  outlive  that  amiable  cousin  of  mine  ; 
but  nothing  else  should  I  care  about.  I  don't  demand  sense, 
or  talents  ;  still  less,  genius.  I  have  no  improper  and  selfish 
longings  for  a  wise  child." 

"  A  wise  child ! "  exclaimed  Madame  D'Okenheim. 
"  What  do  you  mean  by  a  wise  child  ? " 

"  That  depends,  my  dear,  upon  what  may  be  considered 
evidences  of  wisdom.  Pico  della  Mirandola,  Blaise  Pascal, 
and  others,  gave  evidences  of  a  certain  kind  of  wisdom  at  a 
very  early  age.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  a  proverb  relat 
ing  to  a  different  kind  of  wisdom.  Pardon  the  implied  re 
flection  upon  your  sex,  but  you  must  have  often  heard  it, — it 
is  found  in  all  languages.  The  Italians  say,  '  II  maggior  ser- 
TIZIO  die  possa  fare  un  figliuolo  saggio  al  padre  &  '/  conasccrlo.' 
The  French  say,  '  II  est  savant  r enfant  qui  connait  son  propre 
pcre.'  The  English  say,  'It  is  a  wise  child  that' —  Well,  you 
know  the  proverb.  I  should  not  care  if  my  successor  was 
still  more  ignorant,  and  didn't  know  his  own  mother." 

"Infamous!"  exclaimed  Madame  D'Okenheim,  starting 
back,  and  shaking  off  her  husband's  hand  from  her  shoulder. 

"  Infamous,  indeed.  Nine-tenths  of  all  the  proverbs  in 
all  languages  relating  to  your  sex  are  infamous,  scandalous, 
and,  if  you  please,  absurd ;  but  I  am  not  responsible  for 


24  NEVER  AGAIN. 

them,  and  I  must  beg  you  to  lay  aside  all  affectation.  A 
little,  just  a  little,  indignation  at  the  aphoristic  impertinence  I 
have  quoted,  may  be  perhaps  becoming ;  at  least,  it  might  be 
were  anybody  by  but  ourselves.  But  between  us —  Bah  !  we 
know  each  other — don't  we,  ma  belle  ?  " 

"  I  think  we  do,"  replied  the  lady,  with  a  shrug.  "  At 
least  I  think  I  know  you." 

"  Certainly  you  do,  but  that  is  not  much.  It  is  not  diffi 
cult  to  know  such  an  honest,  open-hearted  fellow  as  I  am. 
But  I  give  you  credit  for  a  higher  knowledge  than  that." 

"  Pardon  me,"  returned  the  lady,  a  perceptible  sneer 
marking  the  expression  of  her  countenance.  "  A  higher 
knowledge  ?  Yes,  perhaps ;  but  not  a  more  difficult" 

"Well,  well,  ma  belle;  at  least  you  have  a  knowledge 
of  your  own  interests.  You  know  that  it  will  never  do  to 
make  an  esclandre  that  would  bring  your  name  before  the 
public  just  at  this  time.'* 

The  gentleman  and  lady  took  a  few  turns  up  and  down  the 
piazza  in  silence.  They  paused  as  if  to  listen  to  those  deli 
cious  strains,  those  nectared  and  subtle  voicings  of  an  exqui 
site  and  intensified  conventionality  that  floated  on  the  golden 
and  odorous  air  across  the  esplanade  ;  but  little  was  the  mu 
sic  heeded  by  either.  The  gentleman  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"You  will  see  then,  my  dear,  that  under  the  circum 
stances  it  is  best  to  avoid  all  scandal  with  that  young  Amer 
ican.  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  have  to  shoot  him  ;  it  would 
make  so  much  noise.  Not  that  I  wish  to  interfere  with  any 
flirtation  of  yours,  however  far  you  may  be  willing  to  push  it ; 
but  publicity  would  be  very  objectionable  ;  and  I  think  I 
perceive  that  you  are  becoming  a  little  careless.  That  is  al 
ways  the  case  with  you  women  when  once  you  become  really 
interested.  But  there  is  no  danger  of  a  grand  passion  in  this 
case,  is  there  ?  It  would  be  too  ridiculous,  eh  ? " 

The  lady  made  no  reply. 

"  He  has,  however,"  continued  the  gentleman,  "  one  thing 
in  his  favor :  another  lover  might  not  be  so  luckily  circum 
stanced,  and  if  you  will  avail  yourself  of  the  privileges  of  your 


NEVER  AGAIN.  25 

sex,  and  amuse  yourself  with  a  lover,  you  might  perhaps  go 
further  and  fare  worse.  It  will  be  very  easy  in  a  few  days  to 
shake  him  off.  He  leaves  for  his  own  country  in  a  short 
time." 

The  lady  turned  inquiringly  to  her  husband. 

"  He  is  not  rich,"  replied  Monsieur  emphatically,  nodding 
his  head,  "  and  once  across  the  Atlantic,  and  settled  down  to 
his  business,  it' will  be  long  before  he  will  visit  Europe  again. 
The  money-getting  devil  will  get  hold  of  him.  I  know  some 
thing  of  those  New  York  merchants.  I  have  visited  them, 
when  I  was  attached  to  our  legation  at  Washington,  in  their 
own  houses — quite  magnificent  their  houses  are  too, — regu 
lar  temples — dedicated  solely  to  the  worship  of  mammon, — 
all  fitted  up  exactly  alike  with  the  gorgeous  fragments  and 
figments  of  a  bought-and-paid-for  taste, — while  the  service 
consists  mainly  of  the  chinking  of  gold  and  the  rattling  of 
dollars.  They  have  a  creed,  and  a  catechism  too.  The  one 
begins  with,  '  I  believe  in  any  man  worth  a  million,'  and  the 
other  with,  'What  is  the  chief  end  of  man? — To  glorify  trade 
and  make  money  forever.'  No,  we  shall  never  hear  of  him 
again,  and  as  he  suspects  not  our  title  or  address,  he  prob 
ably  will  never  hear  of  us.  If  we  parted  from  him  now,  I 
don't  believe  he  could  hunt  us  up,  even  if  he  had  time  and 
disposition  to  do  so. 

"  As  you  remarked,"  observed  Monsieur  D'Okenheim, 
after  a  pause,  "  he  is  good-looking." 

"Passably  so." 

"  And  well  mannered  ?  " 

"  So,  so." 

"  And  deeply  enamored  of  you." 

"  Perhaps.  You  have  had  more  experience  in  such  mut 
ters,  and  are  a  better  judge  than  I  am." 

"  Ah,  Madame,  you  flatter  me,  and  belie  your  own  acuie- 
ness.  What  is  the  acquired  skill  of  man  in  that  respect  com 
pared  to  the  natural  instinct  of  woman  ?  I  never  knew  this 
to  fail,  except  in  cases  where  they  suffer  their  own  passions  to 
blind  them.  I  hope,  for  the  credit  of  one  of  the  coolest  heads 


26  NEVER  AGAIN. 

I  know,  that  interest  in  him  does  not  disqualify  you  from  esti 
mating  the  co/responding  symptoms  of  interest  on  his  part  I " 

"  Well,  well,"  exclaimed  the  lady  impatiently,  "  perhaps  it 
is  so, — and  what  then  ?  " 

"  What  then  ?  "  said  Monsieur  D'Okenheim,  twisting  up 
the  corners  of  his  mustache,  and  drawing  down  his  eyebrows 
until  the  two,  almost  touching,  made  a  circle  of  hair  through 
which  peered  his  pinched-up  nose.  "  What  then  ?  Why  noth 
ing — nothing  at  all.  Only  I  would  remark  that  women  of 
the  world  are  often  so  confoundedly  grateful  for  a  modicum 
of  genuine  youthful  devotion,  that  they  suffer  themselves  to 
be  carried  beyond  their  depth  before  they  know  it.  Mind 
you,  I  don't  pretend  to  any  right  to  interfere,  but  this  little 
affair — that  is,  if  you  are  determined  to  make  it  an  affair — is 
so  odd,  so  unexpected,  and,  I  may  add,  so  inoportune,  that 
I  can't  refrain  from  speaking  to  you  about  it. 

"  Don't  you  think,  my  dear,  that  it  would  be  a  great  want 
of  tact,  and  sense,  and  wisdom,  in  a  woman  as  clever  as  you 
are,  not  to  avail  herself  of  one  of  the  best  qualities  in  her 
lover  ? " 

The  lady  turned  a  sharp  look  of  inquiry  towards  her  hus 
band. 

"You  recollect  what  your  friend  the  Princess  of  Stacklin- 
burg  used  to  say :  that  she  chose  for  her  lovers  only  young 
officers  of  the  linie-regimenter,  because,  they  being  constantly 
liable  to  marching  orders,  she  was  certain  of  getting  rid  of 
them  more  easily  than  of  the  gallants  of  the  Kaiser liche 
Leifavache,  who  are  always  around  the  court.  Ah  !  the  Prin 
cess  was  a  great  woman  and  a  wise  woman.  She  knew  that 
nine- tenths  of  scandal  comes  from  the  unnecessary  vigor 
with  which  many  women  defend  their  hearts  from  all  ap 
proaches.  'It  isn't  the  assault  and  capture  of  a  city,'  said 
she,  'that  makes  the  fame  of  a  siege  :  it  is  the  mining  and 
countermining  ;  the  boom  of  the  batteries  and  the  prelimi 
nary  falfs  d'armes.  If  a  woman  demands  for  her  heart 
a  systematic  attack  with  a  heavy  siege  train,  she  can't  be  sur 
prised  if  rumor  sooner  or  later  sticks  her  into  one  of  her  bul- 


NEVER  AGAIN.  27 

Mins  scandaleux.'  Now,  in  a  court  where  the  characters  of 
so  many  women  are  compromised,  the  reputation  of  the  Prin 
cess  of  Stacklinburg  is  almost  intact.  '  It  is  such  a  nice 
thing,'  said  the  Princess  one  day  to  me,  '  to  be  able  to  get  rid 
of  one's  lovers  before  one  is  tired  of  them ; — most  women 
wait  too  long.  Now  don't  you  think  that  in  view  of  the  ex 
ceedingly  delicate  management  that  may  be  required  in  a  cer 
tain  case,  you  have  amused  yourself  with  this  young  man  about 
long  enough  ?  Don't  you  think  that  we  had  better  drop  him 
at  once  ?  It  won't  be  much  of  a  sacrifice — will  't,  ny  dear  ? 
and  besides,  he  will  be  compelled  in  a  few  days  tc  drop  us 
— that  is,  unless  you  make  a  slave  of  him,  and  tie  him  to 
your  chariot  wheels  forever.  I  don't  doubt  your  power  to  do 
so,  but  it  strikes  me — mind  I  have  no  intention  to  dictate, 
hardly  even  to  advise — that  in  the  end  le  jeu  ne  vaut  pas  la 
chandelle,  or  in  his  own  shop-keeping  lingo,  the  thing  would 
not  pay.  But  come,  ma  belle,  let  us  cross  to  •  the  Kurhaus. 
Your  Yankee  will  hardly  wait  much  longer,  and  I  am  anxious 
to  pick  up  a  thousand  louis  this  evening.  I  feel  certain  that 
I  shall  win.  Fortune,  -I  am  sure,  owes  me  a  good  turn,  after 
this  last  insult  from  my  precious  cousin." 

The  lady  made  no  reply,  but  sauntered  slowly  by  the  side 
of  her  husband  back  to  the  colonnade  of  the  Kurhaus,  where 
Mr.  Ledgeral  was  impatiently  gnawing  the  head  of  his  cane, 
and  nervously  twisting  himself  about  on  two  chairs,  as  if  to 
convince  any  sedentarily-disposed  and  seat-seeking  spectator 
that  the  second  chair  was  an  optical  illusion. 

"  We  have  made  you  wait  a  long  time,"  said  Monsieur 
D'Okenheim,  with  his  politest  bow. 

"  The  time  has  seemed  long,  it  is  true,"  replied  Mr.  Ledg 
eral,  with  a  significant  smile  to  the  lady,  "  but  no  time  would 
be  too  long  to  wait  in  the  service  of  Madame." 

"  Ah,  very  well  said — very  well  turned  indeed.  But  then  a 
turn  for  compliments  is  characteristic  of  the  Yankees.  They 
are  very  complimentary — to  themselves,"  he  muttered  aside  to 
Madame ;  "  but  are  you  sure  you  have  no  other  engagements  ? " 

"None  whatever." 


2  8  NETER  AC  A IX. 

"  Madame  will  then  be  indebted  to  you." 

With  an  abstracted  air,  the  lady  took  the  arm  of  the  young 
man.  They  followed  Monsieur  D'Okenheim  into  the  gam 
bling  saloon,  and  stood  behind  him  as  he  dropped  into  his 
accustomed  seat,  marked  by  his  card  pinned  to  the  green 
cloth,  and  pushed  out  ten  louis  to  the  centre  of  the  table. 

11  Rouge  gagne,  noir pent f"  exclaimed  the  dealer;  and  a 
croupier  added  ten  louis  to  the  stake. 

A  second  time  the  phrase  was  repeated,  and  twenty  louis 
were  added.  A  third,  a  fourth,  and  a  fifth  time,  still  Mon 
sieur  D'Okenheim  sat  motionless  and  silent. 

"  Deux  louis  d  la  masse"  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  as  the 
dealer  prepared  for  the  sixth  deal. 

"Deux  louis  d  la  masse"  repeated  the  dealer.  "Noir 
gagne,  rouge  per  d." 

"  A/i,  quelle  chance  etonnante  !  qucl  bonheur  merveillcux  ! " 
murmured  the  galerie. 

The  croupier  picked  out  two  pieces  from  the  glittering  pile 
of  three  hundred  and  twenty  louis,  while  Monsieur  D'Oken 
heim  reached  forward,  and  pulled  the  remainder  towards  him. 

He  looked  up  to  his  wife  with  a  smile  that  was  half  a  grin 
and  half  a  sneer.  " Do  you  see,  ma  belle"  he  whispered, 
"  the  cards  are  favorable,  but  one  must  play  with  reticence 
and  self-control.  There  is  no  use  in  pushing  fortune  too  far. 
To  draw  back  in  time  one  must  draw  back  early." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  and  the  lady  sauntered  into  the  open  air. 
The  full  moon  had  just  risen  over  the  eastern  rim  of  the 
basin  of  Baden — the  last  faint  flush  of  sunset  still  tinged  the 
tottering  towers  of  das  alte  Schloss. 

Slowly  they  paced  around  the  esplanade — through  the 
alley  of  shops — up  and  down  the  avenue  of  Lichtenthal — by 
the  banks  of  the  Oos — along  the  fa£ade  of  the  Trinkhall, — 
until,  quite  accidentally,  they  took  a  turn  into  the  now  deserted 
walks  on  the  hill-side,  back  of  the  Kurhaus. 

A  moment  after,  Annette,  the  lady's  maid,  accompanied 
by  Steignitz,  entered  the  same  path,  and  stealthily  followed 
the  steps  of  her  mistress. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Lake  Mahopac — A  Bear  or  a  Bald  Eagle  ? — A  Queer  Boy — Biblical 
Exegesis — A  Visit  to  the  Hudson — First  Love — An  Awful  Blunder 
— Poetry  and  Despair. 

GO  up  the  Hudson  as  far  as  the  town  of  Peekskill,  and 
thence  directly  back  from  the  river  some  twelve  or 
fourteen  miles,  and  you  will  arrive  at  the  shore  of  one  of 
a  group  of  little  lakes,  six  or  seven  in  number,  which  there 
lie  nestling  in  the  embraces  of  the  Highlands.  Elevated  a 
thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  river — fed  with  water 
from  the  clearest  springs — swept  by  the  purest  mountain 
breezes — and  studded  with  little  islets  of  mingled  rock  and 
wood — nothing  can  be  imagined  of  a  more  happy,  healthful 
beauty.  From  one  high  hill  the  whole  group — at  certain 
seasons  when  the  foliage  does  not  prevent — may  be  seen 
at  once,  like  ornaments  of  silver  on  the  green  and  brown 
garniture  of  the  landscape  ;  and,  from  the  branches  of  one 
tall  tree  crowning  this  hill,  can  be  traced  the  distant  valley 
of  the  Hudson. 

It  was  on  a  day  some  nineteen  or  twenty  years  after  the 
date  of  the  conversation  recorded  in  the  last  chapter,  that 
two  men,  in  a  one-horse  vehicle  yclept  a  "  buggy,"  were  driv 
ing  slowly  along  the  road  that  winds  around  the  foot  of  this 
hill.  Their  attention  had  been  attracted  to  a  dark-looking 
object  perched  in  the  leafless  branches  of  the  tall  tree  on  its 
summit,  and  they  stopped  their  horse  to  examine  it  more 
steadily. 

"  I  can't  rightly  think  exactly  what  kind  of  a  critter  that 
may  be,"  said  the  elder  of  the  two  •  "  that  is,  if  it  is  a  living 
critter  at  all.  What  do  you  think,  Captain  Combings  ? "  • 


3° 


NEVER  AGAIN: 


"  Well,  Deacon,  I  think  it  is  an  animal  of  some  kind,  for 
I  can  distinctly  see  it  move,"  replied  the  Captain,  a  short, 
stout,  ruddy-faced  man  of  about  forty-five  years  of  age.  "  It 
can't  be  a  crow  ?" 

"  Oh,  no !"  exclaimed  the  Deacon.  "  It  ain't  nothin'  like 
a  crow.  My  eyes  ain't  so  good  as  they  used  to  be,  but  they 
are  good  enough  to  see  that  that  is  too  big,  and  not  black 
enough,  for  a  crow.  It  may  be  a  bald  eagle." 

"  Perhaps  it's  a  bear !"  suggested  Captain  Combings. 

"  Well,  it  does  look  something  like  a  bear,  that's  a  fact ; 
but  I've  lived  within  three  miles  of  this  hill  now  for  about 
seventy  years,  and  I  have  never  seen  a  bear  except  in  a 
travelling  menagerie.  'Tain't  a  bear,  I  guess ;  bul  here 
comes  a  fellow  that  can  tell  us,  perhaps.  Hollo,  there ! 
Mister !  do  you  know  what  that  thing  is  up  in  the  top  of 
that  tree  there?" 

The  question  was  asked  of  a  man  with  an  axe  on  his 
shoulder,  who  was  just  emerging  from  the  bushes  that  con 
cealed  a  wood-road  running  up  the  hill-side. 

The  woodman  thus  addressed  deliberately  slipped  on  his 
jacket  which  he  carried  on  his  arm,  advanced  to  the  side  of 
the  buggy,  and,  resting  his  hand  upon  his  axe  helve,  squinted 
up  to  the  object  in  question. 

"  You  want  to  know  what  kind  of  a  wild  thing  that  is  up 
there  in  the  tree,"  said  he,  with  a  chuckling  laugh. 

"  Yes,"  responded  the  Deacon.  "  Captain  Combings  here 
thinks  it  a  bear,  but  I  'spect  the  Captain  knows  more  about 
whales  and  porpoises  than  he  does  about  bears.  I  kind  o' 
consate  it's  a  bald  eagle." 

"  'Tisn't  an  eagle,"  replied  the  man. 

"  It  can't  be  a  bear,"  said  the  Deacon. 

"No,  nor  a  lion,  nor  a  tiger,  nor  a  rhinoceros — it's  a 
boy !" 

"Wi.ew!  A  boy!  Why,  what  is  he  doing  up  there? 
We  saw  him  two  miles  back,  and  have  been  watching  him 
here  for  some  time  past.  He  must  have  been  perched  up 
there  for  an  hour,  at  least.  Are  you  sure  it's  a  boy  ?" 


NEVER   AGAIN.  31 

"  Sartin  sure ;  it  is  little  Luth  Lansdale.  He  roosts  up 
there  purty  much  all  his  spare  time  now.  What  he  does  up 
there,  I  can't  exactly  make  out.  I've  seen  boys  climb  trees 
for  nuts  and  birds'  nests,  and  'taint  long  since  I  used  to  do  it 
myself,  but  there  ain't  a  nut  or  nest  on  that  tree.  A  queer 
boy,  Luth !  Sometimes  I  think  he's  a  little  non  compos,  and 
sometimes  I  think  he  ain't.  I  axed  him  one  day  what  he  had 
taken  to  roosting  in  that  tree  for,  and  he  said  he  went  up 
there  to  see  the  world  and  the  kingdoms  thereof." 

"Just  like  his  father,"  exclaimed  the  Deacon;  "he  was 
always  a  queer  man — a  terrible  queer  man." 

"You  know  this  youngster,  then?"  demanded  Captain 
Combings.  "  What  kind  of  a  boy  is  he  ? " 

"  Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  don't  know  much  about 
him.  I've  heard  tell  all  kind  of  opinions — some  say  he's 
smart,  and  some  say  he's  stupid  ;  some  say  he's  a  very  good 
boy,  and  others  say  he's  a  regular  imp.  I  don't  know  what 
to  say  myself,  but  I'm  afraid  he  won't  turn  out  very  well. 
I've  had  the  teachers  in  our  Sunday-school  complain  to  me 
that  he  asked  such  odd  questions  that  they  were  quite  dis 
gusted  with  him.  But  there,  he's  coming  down  now.  Get 
up,  pony !" 

"  Hold  on  for  a  moment,"  exclaimed  Captain  Combings, 
with  an  expression  of  interest.  "  I  think  I  once  knew  his 
father,  and  his  mother,  too,  for  that  matter.  I  would  like  to 
see  him  a  little  closer.  He's  coming  this  way." 

The  Deacon  checked  his  horse  again,  and  the  two  sat 
quietly  observing  the  movements  of  the  youngster  as  he 
slipped  down  the  trunk  of  the  tree  and,  touching  the  ground, 
bounded  off  on  a  run  down  the  hill. 

"  A  very  queer  boy,"  muttered  the  Deacon. 

The  Deacon's  phrase  expressed  exactly  the  reputation 
that  the  lad  had  contrived  to  establish  for  himself  throughout 
the  community.  However  much  his  friends  and  companions 
might  differ  in  their  estimation  of  his  talents,  temper,  or  man 
ners,  they  all  agreed  that  he  was  "queer,  very  queer." 

For  his  age,  which  might  be  about  fourteen  years,  he  was 


32 


NEVER    AGAIN. 


perhaps  as  active  and  vigorous  a  youth  as  Putnam  County 
could  boast.  His  growth  had  been  rapid,  but  healthy.  In 
person  he  was  tall  and  somewhat  slender,  but  strong-limbed 
and  supple.  His  features,  though  tolerably  regular,  could 
hardly  be  called  handsome,  with  the  exception  of  his  eyes, 
which  were  large  and  of  a  deep  brown  color ;  but  his  face  had 
much  of  a  certain  kind  of  beauty — the  kind  which  comes  up, 
as  it  were,  from  the  depths  of  the  soul,  where  it  lies  hidden, 
in  response  only  to  kind  and  sympathetic  observation — a 
beauty  something  like  that  often  seen  in  the  road-side  pool — 
a  passing  glance,  and  all  is  dark,  stagnant,  and  forbidding — 
a  second  look,  and,  lo !  in  the  depths  are  flitting  clouds,  and 
leafy  trees,  and  waving  grass  and  flowers. 

A  something  wayward  and  capricious  in  manner  had,  per 
haps,  more  than  anything  else  contributed  to  his  reputation 
for  queerness.  Ordinarily  quiet  and  reserved,  he  could  be, 
at  times,  when  high  animal  spirits  broke  down  the  barriers  of 
bashfulness,  rampantly  gay  and  communicative,  but  in  all 
cases  a  vivid  imagination  and  great  natural  delicacy  of  feeling 
exerted  a  modifying  influence.  For  neither  of  these  qualities, 
however,  had  he  found  much  that  was  encouraging  or  conge 
nial  among  his  usual  associates.  At  home,  life  had  for  him 
only  discomfort  and  vexations ;  abroad,  he  had  companions 
and  acquaintances,  but  no  intimacies  or  warm  friendships. 
His  nature  had  thus  been  turned  back  and  driven  in  upon 
itself,  and  his  sympathies,  cut  off  in  a  measure  from  the  light 
of  actual  life,  and  cellared  in  the  depths  of  his  own  mind, 
were  rapidly  running  themselves  out  into  the  world  beyond 
through  the  loop-holes  of  imagination.  Sensitive  and  shrink 
ing,  yet  ardent  and  self-reliant,  he  had  ever  evinced  an 
instinctive  aversion  to  the  sordid  and  vulgar  surroundings  of 
his  daily  life,  and  his  passionate  love  for  the  companionship 
of  his  own  thoughts  had  unconsciously  driven  him  frequently 
to  the  hill-top  as  the  best  escape  he  could  make  from  his  daily 
cares  and  troubles,  and  as  a  kind  of  ascent,  as  it  were,  into  3 
higher  life  demanded  by  the  dawning  capabilities  of  his 
nature.  There,  perched  on  the  topmost  boughs  of  his  favor- 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


33 


ite  tree,  he  would  remain  sometimes  for  hours  gazing  down 
into  the  fascinating  little  lakes,  or  straining  his  eyes  to  the 
distant  Hudson — the  mysterious  object  of  his  intense  long 
ings — type  to  him  of  the  World,  of  Life — avenue  to  his 
future — the  only  channel  through  which  his  imagination  went 
out  to  fame,  fortune,  and  power.  No  Hindoo  ever  longed 
more  earnestly  for  a  bath  in  the  sacred  Ganges,  or  Christian 
pilgrim  for  a  sight  of  the  blessed  Jordan,  than  did  he  for  a 
nearer  view  of  the  Hudson. 

The  youth  dashed  down  the  hill  in  a  succession  of  runs 
and  jumps,  and,  plunging  through  the  bushes  at  the  bottom, 
leaped  the  dilapidated  rail-fence,  and  alighted  in  the  road 
not  far  from  where  the  buggy,  with  its  occupants,  was 
standing. 

"  Luther  ! "  exclaimed  the  Deacon — and  the  youth  advan 
ced  inquiringly.  "  Luther  Lansdale,  your  name  is,  isn't  it  ? " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  And  do  you  know  what  my  name  is  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes  sir  ;  everybody  knows  Deacon  Dusenbury." 

"  Right,  Luther ;  I  'spect  I'm  pretty  well  known  about 
here.  And  how  is  your  mother,  Luther  ?  Pretty  well,  eh  ? 
Well,  I'm  glad  to  hear  it;  and  your  brother  John — well  too, 
eh  ?  The  fact  is,  Captain  Combings,  everybody  is  always 
well  up  here,  no  fever  and  ague,  nor  nothing.  'Tis  the 
healthiest  country  about  here,  I  ever  see.  And  now,  Luther, 
I  want  to  know  what  you  were  doing  up  in  that  tree,  making 
us  think  it  was  a  bear,  or  a  bald  eagle  ? " 

The  boy  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then,  with  a  lurking 
twinkle  of  his  eye,  he  said  :  "  There  is  nothing  in  the  Bible 
against  climbing  trees,  is  there  ?  " 

"Why  no,"  replied  the  Deacon  musingly,  "I  believe  not. 
I  don't  think  the  Scripter  has  much  to  say  about  climbing 
trees,  either  agin  it  or  for  it." 

"  Oh,  yes  sir ;  there  is  something  in  favor  of  it." 

"  How  so,  Luther  ?  What  does  it  say  ?  I  recollect  there 
is  something  about  the  tree  of  Life,  and  the  tree  of  knowl 
edge,  and  there's  the  olive  tree  and  the  sycamore  tree, — and 


34  NEVER   AGAIN. 

our  Saviour  talks  about  the  fig  tree, — and  David  says  some 
where,  'wake  harp  and  p-saltree.'  Now  I  don't  know  what 
kind  of  a  tree  a  p-saltree  is,  but  I  guess  there  is  nothing 
about  climbing  it.  I  don't  believe  you  can  find  anything 
about  climbing  any  kind  of  a  tree  in  the  Bible." 

"  Oh,  yes  sir ;  don't  the  Bible  say — '  and  Zaccheus,  he  did 
climb  the  tree,  his  Lord  to  see  '  ? " 

"  Right,  Luther ;  it  does  say  so.  I  see  your  Sunday  school  - 
ing  has  done  you  good." 

Captain  Combings  laughed  heartily,  and  gave  the  young 
ster  a  knowing  look,  as  much  as  to  say  that,  despite  his 
demure  air,  he  suspected  him  of  quizzing  the  Deacon. 

"  And  so,  Luther,  you  climbed  the  tree,  like  Zaccheus,  to 
see  better,"  continued  the  Deacon.  "What  did  you  want  to 
see  ? " 

"  I  wanted  to  see  the  Hudson." 

"  Can  you  see  it  from  that  tree  ? " 

"  No  sir,  not  quite ;  but  I  can  almost.  I  can  see  where  it 
runs,  and  the  hills  on  the  other  side ;  and  I  can  see  the  tops 
of  the  vessels." 

"  See  the  tops  of  the  vessels,  eh  ?  Well,  I  shouldn't  have 
thought  it.  And  you'd  like  to  see  the  vessels  themselves, 
I'm  sure.  A  North  River  sloop  is  no  great  sight ;  you  should 
see  the  big  ships  down  at  New  York." 

"  But  I  suspect,"  interrupted  Captain  Combings  with  a 
whimsical  squint,  first  at  the  Deacon  and  then  at  the  boy, 
"  that  Luther  has  already  seen  as  large  and  as  fine  ships  as 
ever  New  York  can  show ;  haven't  you  Luther  ?  You've  seen 
the  Bassorah,  the  ship  that  Sinbad  made  his  second  voyage 
in  ? — and  you've  often  been  aboard  of  Captain  Cook's  ship, 
the  Endeavor?  And  wasn't  you  cabin-boy  on  board  of  the  Rat 
tler  when  Captain  Kidd  murdered  William  Moore,  as  he 
sailed,  as  he  sailed  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  exclaimed  Luther,  looking  up  and  taking  his 
cue  from  the  Captain,  "and  I've  seen  Cleopatra's  barge 
when  she  went  to  visit  Mark  Antony." 

"  Right,  Luther ;  that  was  a  ship  with  her  capstan  bars  and 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


35 


belaying  pins  of  solid  gold,  and  all  her  canvas,  from  courses 
to  skysail,  of  the  finest  satin." 

"  Why  what  on  earth  do  you  mean  ? "  interrupted  the 
Deacon.  "  I  don't  believe  the  boy  has  been  three  miles  from 
Lake  Mahopac  in  all  his  life." 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing.  Lake  Mahopac  is  as  big  as  the  ocean 
when  it  is  properly  multiplied  here,"  replied  the  Captain,  put 
ting  his  finger  to  his  forehead  and  waggishly  squinting  at  the 
mystified  Deacon. 

"  Oh !  Captain,  get  out ;  you  are  making  fun  of  the  poor 
child.  I  have  never  seen  the  ocean  myself,  but  I  guess 
it  must  be  five  hundred  times  as  big  as  Lake  Mahopac. 
You're  a  sailor,  and  ought  to  know  how  that  is." 

"  You're  right,  Deacon,  we  wont  argue  the  point ;  but  you 
are  coming  to  Peekskill  on  Monday,  why  not  give  the  lad  a 
lift  down  and  up,  and  let  him  have  a  full  view  of  the  big 
river?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  mind  if  I  do,"  replied  the  Deacon,  "  that 
is,  Luther,  if  your  mother  will  give  you  leave.  You'd  like  to 
go  ?  Yes.  Well,  I'd  like  very  well  to  have  you,  for  I'm  going 
to  drive  my  colts  down,  and  I'm  not  sure  they'll  stand  well  in 
the  streets,  so  you  see  it  will  be  quite  convenient  to  have  some 
one  to  look  after  them.  You  be  ready  bright  and  early  Mon 
day  morning,  and  I'll  pick  you  up  as  I  come  by  your  place. 
Get  up  now,  pony;  we've  wasted  too  much  time  already,  get 
up ! " 

The  Deacon  accompanied  the  word  with  a  blow,  and  his 
horse — a  beast  of  spirit — started  off  at  a  round  trot. 

The  youth  watched  the  buggy  until  it  disappeared  at  a 
turn  of  the  road,  and  then,  buoyed  up  by  the  exultant  flutter 
ings  of  his  own  heart,  flew,  rather  than  ran,  toward  his  home. 

"  Oh,  mother  !  mother !  "  he  exclaimed  to  a  thin,  delicate, 
patient-looking  woman,  who  was  sitting,  needle  in  hand,  on 
the  back  porch  of  an  old  weather-stained  farm-house,  with  a 
large  basket  of  worn  and  torn  garments  beside  her.  "  Dea 
con  Dusenbury  has  asked  me  to  go  down  to  Peekskill  with 
him  on  Monday.  He's  going  to  drive  his  gray  colts,  and  he's 


36  NEVER  AGAIN. 

afraid  they  won't  stand  well  in  the  streets  without  some  one  to 
look  after  them  while  he  is  running  about.  -Mayn't  I  go, 
mother? — there's  no  school  Monday,  and  the  deacon  says  he 
can't  go  without  me." 

"  I  am  afraid,  my  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  Lansdale,  "  that  your 
brother  John  will  want  you  on  Monday.  He  is  going  to  be 
gin  clearing  the  old  stump-field,  and  you  know  you  are  so 
handy  with  the  steers." 

"  I  don't  care  what  John  wants  !  "  exclaimed  the  youth  in 
an  excited  tone.  "  Deacon  Dusenbury  wants  me,  too,  and 
you've  promised  me  a  hundred  times  that  I  should  go  clown 
to  the  river  the  first  chance.  Every  other  boy  around  here 
has  been  down  a  dozen  times.  I  promised  you  that  I  would 
never  go  down  without  letting  you  know.  I  have  kept  my 
promise,  and  you  have  broken  yours.  I  could  go  down  and 
back  on  foot  any  day.  I've  had  fifty  chances  to  ride,  and 
every  time  John  has  interfered  and  prevented  me.  He  inter 
feres  with  me  in  everything.  He  doesn't  want  me  to  go  to 
school.  He  locks  up  father's  books.  My  Latin  grammar  is 
gone  ; — I'll  bet  he  has  burned  it.  Now  this  must  stop.  I 
won't  stand  it — I  am  not  going  to  be  his  slave  !  I  won't  help 
him  with  the  stumps  on  Monday — I  won't  work  for  him  any 
more.  I'll  run  away — I'll  go  down  to  York ;  I'll  go  to  sea! 
I'll  kill  myself !  I'll  kill  him  !" 

"  Oh,  Luther  !  Luther !  "  exclaimed  his  mother,  "  how  can 
you  ? — how  can  you  be  so  wicked  ?  Don't  you  know  that  God 
hears  every  word  you  say  ? " 

"  I  don't  care  if  He  does !  "  shouted  Luth,  stamping  in  his 
rage  upon  the  old  rotten  porch  floor  to  the  great  enclanger- 
ment  of  the  whole  fabric, — "  I  don't  care  if  He  does,  and  the 
devil  too,  and  the  whole  world  besides  !  I  hope  to  be  ever 
lastingly  " — 

"  Oh,  Luther  !  Luther ! " 

"  I  do  !    Indeed  I  do !" 

Pool,  pious,  horrified  Mrs.  Lansdale  lifted  her  hand, 
gauntled  with  an  old  cotton  stocking  she  was  darning,  to  her 
eye,  and  wiped  away  a  tear.  Startled  from  her  usual  serenity 


NEVER  AGAIN.  37 

by  the  unexpected  and  over-bearing  passion  of  her  favorite 
child,  she  readily  promised  him  her  permission  to  go  with  the 
Deacon,  and  soothed  him  with  repeated  assurances  that  she 
would  say  nothing  to  John. 

Selfish  and  tyrannical  in  disposition,  and  coarse  and  vio 
lent  in  manner,  this  eldest  son  had,  since  the  death  of  his 
father,  assumed  .entire  control  of  the  family,  composed  of 
his  mother  and  six  children,  and  also  of  the  property,  consist 
ing  of  some  two  hundred  acres  of  land,  lying  not  far  from 
the  largest  of  the  little  lakes  we  have  mentioned.  Bitterly 
had  Mrs.  Lansdale  regretted  her  weakness  in  submitting  to 
the  over-bearing  and  never-ending  dictation  of  her  son,  and 
not  unfrequently,  in  the  interests  of  her  other  children,  she 
had  made  efforts  to  withstand  it,  but  in  vain.  Her  placid 
and  yielding  nature  was  no  match  for  the  passionate  and 
obstinate  temper  to  which  it  was  opposed. 

Mrs.  Lansdale  was  faithful  to  her  promise,  and  on  Mon 
day  morning  Luther  was  allowed  to  slip  off  and  join  the 
Deacon ;  his  mother  covering  his  disappearance  with  some 
excuse  until  it  was  too  late  for  his  recall. 

Ah !  what  a  happy  morning  was  that  when,  for  the  first 
time,  he  saw  from  the  high  hill  back  of  the  town  of  Peeks- 
kill  the  broad  Hudson  gleaming  at  his  feet.  There  were 
a  dozen  sloops,  with  their  white  sails  trimmed  close  to  the 
wind,  beating  up  the  stream,  while  a  still  greater  number, 
with  flowing  sheets,  were  just  issuing  from  the  gorge  of  the 
Highlands.  There  was  a  magnificent  steamboat  streaming 
along  like  a  thing  of  life,  and,  like  a  thing  of  life,  showing 
itself  for  a  brief  period  between  two  eternities  of  mystery 
— the  whence  and  the  whither — the  New  York  and  Albany 
of  his  excited  imagination.  There,  also,  stretched  out  in 
Babylonian  amplitude  and  magnificence,  lay  the  town,  with 
its  long  streets  and  lofty  houses. 

He  turned  to  the  Deacon,  who  was  steadying  his  skittish 
horses  in  the  descent  of  the  hill.  He  could  hardly  under 
stand  the  old  man's  preoccupation  with  so  comparatively  un 
important  a  matter ;  he  could  only  wonder  at  and  admire 


38  NEVER  AGAIN. 

his  self-possession,  his  impassiveness,  his  apparent  contempt 
of  the  grandeur  and  glory  of  the  scene.  The  Deacon  had 
always  been  a  formidable  character — thanks  to  his  tall,  stiff 
figure  and  stern  manner,  and  to  the  remembrance  of  sundry 
ear  pullings  for  laughing  in  Sunday-school.  Now,  measured 
by  and  found  superior  to  the  ten-thousand  foot  standard 
of  the  young  lad's  excited  feelings,  he  was  'absolutely  grand. 

"  Is  New  York  really  so  much  larger  than  the  town  before 
us  ? "  Luther  asked  of  the  Deacon,  in  as  calm  and  emotion 
less  a  tone  as  he  could  command. 

"  I  guess  you  won't  rightly  know  the  difference  till  you've 
been  down  to  York  some  day,"  replied  the  Deacon.  "  York 
is  a  great  place.  Take  about  a  hundred  Peekskills,  and  put 
them  all  together,  and  you  wouldn't  begin  to  make  one  York." 

A  hundred  times  as  large  as  the  town  before  them  !  The 
idea  was  too  vast.  The  lad  felt  that  his  voice  would  betray 
him  if  he  asked  any  more  questions.  He  sat  silent,  enjoying 
the  bliss  of  a  moment  which  in  its  unalloyed  illusory  fulness 
comes  but  once  in  a  lifetime — and  then  only  to  those  trained 
in  the  narrow  and  contracted  limits  of  country  domesticity — 
that  moment  when  the  shell  of  local  habit  is  first  chipped — 
that  instant  when  the  chickens  of  fancy  first  fairly  peep  into 
the  great  outside  world  of  fact. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  dwell  upon  the  delight  with  which, 
while  the  Deacon  was  running  about  upon  his  business,  the 
youth  sat  in  the  wagon,  munching  ginger-bread  and  watching 
the  novel  sights  passing  before  his  eyes.  The  colts  proving 
very  quiet,  he  was  able,  in  the  absence  of  the  Deacon,  to 
make  frequent  short  excursions  round  the  nearest  corners 
until  at  length,  getting  more  confident,  he  ventured  a  trip  to 
an  old  sloop  lying  at  the  wharf. 

"  Ha  !  my  young  bald  eagle  !  or  maybe  its  a  bear,  eh  ? — 
ha  !  ha  !  Well,  give  us  your  claw,  or  your  paw  ! — I'm  glad  to 
see  you.  Came  down  with  the  Deacon,  eh  ? " 

Luther  blushingly  acknowledged  the  salutation  of  Captain 
Combings,  and  accepted  his  invitation  to  step  aboard  the 
sloop. 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


39 


The  Captain,  thrusting  his  hand  down  into  the  pocket  of 
hu  coat  on  one  side,  and  withdrawing  it,  produced  a  big 
apj  le.  A  profound  dive  into  the  other  pocket  was  equally 
successful,  and  resulted  in  a  handful  of  boiled  chestnuts. 
Ht  had  evidently  supplied  himself  with  a  store  of  dainties 
for  the  reception  of  his  youthful  visitor. 

"And  so,"  said  the  Captain  at  a  pause  in  the  conversation, 
which  had  at  first  run  on  the  build  and  qualities  of  the  sloop, 
the  difficulties  and  dangers  of  Tappan  Sea  and  Haverstraw 
Bav,  and  of  the  curious  sights  and  shows  of  the  great  city, 
"  and  so  your  name  is  Luther — Luther  Lansdale,  and  your 
father's  name  is" — 

"  John — John  H.  Lansdale  ;  but  I  haven't  got  any  father 
now — he's  dead." 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  I  forgot.  I  recollect  now  reading  of  his  death 
some  two  or  three  years  ago.  Well,"  continued  the  Captain, 
"  you  may  be  sure  he  is  in  Heaven,  for  he  was  an  honest  man 
and  believed  in  his  Bible,  and  that  will  take  any  one  there,  I 
guess.  I  knew  your  father,  Luther,  and  I  can  speak  a  good 
word  for  him,  although  I  did  owe  him  a  grudge  once.  You 
see  he  cut  me  out.  I'll  tell  you  how  it  was,  and  you'll  see  how 
near  I  came  to  being  your  father  myself.  I  was  once  starting 
out  from  York  a  good  many  years  ago ;  the  steamboat  was 
full  of  passengers,  and  when  we  had  just  got  out  into  the 
bay  there  came  on  a  terrible  squall.  Night  had  just  set  in, 
and  the  clouds  made  it  as  black  as  pitch.  Suddenly,  smash 
went  the  connecting  rod.  There  was  a  heavy  ebb  tide,  and 
we  were  carried  down  the  bay  like  a  shingle  in  a  mill-race, 
and  we  didn't  any  of  us  know  but  that  we  should  be  driven 
right  out  to  sea.  I  went  down  into  the  cabin,  and  there  such 
a  taking  on  among  the  women  no  one  ever  did  see.  They 
were  all  crying  and  screeching  and  wringing  their  hands  ex 
cept  one — a  good-looking  young  woman,  who  was  on  her 
knees  at  prayer.  In  a  few  minutes  she  got  up,  and  I'll  tell 
you  what,  there  way  just  one  tear-streak  down  her  cheek,  but 
besides  that  hei  face  was  as  smooth  and  composed  as  yours 
is  at  this  moment,  and  she  went  around  among  the  women 


4o  NEVER    AGAIN. 

and  children  and  so  comforted  them  with  a  few  words  of  faith 
and  hope  that  in  ten  minutes  they  were  all  as  quiet  as  lambs. 
I  looked  at  her,  and  thinks  I  to  myself,  I'll  marry  that  girl  if 
I  can,  just  so  sure  as  we  get  out  of  this  scrape,  and  I  felt  cer 
tain  of  getting  out  of  it ;  for  if  ten  righteous  men  could  have 
saved  a  city,  one  such  woman  was  enough  to  have  saved  a 
dozen  North  River  craft.  And  sure  enough  in  a  few  min 
utes  the  wind  fell,  Staten  Island  light  came  out,  and  our  Cap 
tain  got  up  a  jury  mast  forward,  and  rigged  it  with  a  piece 
of  canvas  for  a  foresail,  just  enough  to  give  her  steerage 
way  until  we  fell  in  with  a  tug  that  took  us  back  to  the  dock. 
And  who  do  you  think  the  young  woman  was  ? "  demanded 
the  Captain. 

Luther  shook  his  head. 

"  She  was  nobody  else  but  Polly  Scott — your  own  blessed 
mother.  But  you  see  I  was  a  little  too  late,  and  a  little  too 
ugly,  I  suppose.  I  followed  her  up  pretty  well,  until  I  found 
that  she  had  made  up  her  mind  for  your  father,  Colonel  John 
Lansdale.  The  fact  was,  I  was  nothing  but  a  youngster,  and 
had  no  business  to  think  of  the  thing.  And  besides,  your 
father  was  a  scholar  and  a  gentleman,  and  he'd  been  a  kind 
of  stylish  man  down  in  the  city  until  he  lost  his  money,  so 
when  I  found  he  carried  too  many  guns  for  me,  I  put  my  helm 
up,  wore  short  round,  and  went  off  on  another  tack.  Since 
those  days  I  haven't  laid  eyes  on  her,  although  I  used  some 
times  to  meet  your  father.  The  other  day  when  I  was  up  to 
Lake  Mahopac  I  would  have  liked  to  stop  and  see  her.  How 
is  she  ?  I  hope  she  is  comfortable  and  hearty." 

"  My  mother  is  in  very  good  health,"  replied  Luther. 

"  And  well  to  do  in  the  world  ? " 

"  Pretty  well ;  we've  got  a  good  farm — more  than  two  hun 
dred  acres." 

"  Ah !  that  will  do  very  well  for  your  mother  and  brothers, 
but  you  will  want  to  spread  yourself  a  little,  I  guess ;  I  see  it 
in  your  eye.  You'll  want  to  see  more  water  than  Lake  Maho 
pac  has,  and  more  houses  than  Peekskill.  Well,  you  just 
mention  Captain  Combings  to  your  mother,  and  tell  her  from 


NEVER  AGAIN.  4! 

me  that  if  ever  you  get  a  little  restless  and  want  to  try  your 
luck  upon  the  river,  or  go  a  seeking  your  fortune  down  in 
York,  to  let  you  come  here  to  me,  and  I, — Peleg  Combings, 
— will  give  you  a  lift." 

Astonished  and  delighted  at  the  Captain's  generous  offer, 
which  seemed  to  open  at  once  a  pathway  to  the  realization  of 
the  lad's  wildest  imaginings,  Luther  could  hardly  find  words 
to  express  his  grateful  acknowledgments. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  Captain,  "  there  is  no  use  of  any 
words  about  it.  I've  taken  a  notion  to  you,  and  I'll  do  as  I 
say.  But  here  comes  the  Deacon  ;  he's  after  you,  I  guess.  I 
hope  his  colts  haven't  run  away.  He's  looking  cross  enough 
to  kick  up  and  break  things  himself.  I'll  tell  you  what,  I'll 
slush  him  down  a  bit  while  you  slip  around  to  the  wagon." 


More  than  two  years  had  elapsed  from  the  date  of  this 
first  visit  to  Peekskill,  and  Luther  had  reached  his  seven 
teenth  year.  He  had  grown  tall  and  strong,  and  the  spirit 
of  adventure,  fostered  by  a  desultory  course  of  travels  and 
romances,  had  grown  with  his  growth.  But  it  was  held  some 
what  in  check  by  his  ardent  desire  for  a  complete  and  thor 
ough  education.  He  was  a  hard  student,  and  had  vigorously 
availed  himself  of  all  the  opportunities  within  his  reach,  but 
would  he  ever  have  a  chance  at  that  crowning  glory — a  full 
collegiate  course  ?  Hardly ;  but  if  he  could  only  go  for  a 
while  to  the  nearest  academic  institution,  that  would  be  some 
thing.  The  subject  was  often  canvassed  by  himself  and  his 
mother. 

But  if  he  could  not  continue  his  classical  studies, — if  his 
brother  John  was  determined  to  foil  his  ambition  in  this  re 
spect, — why  then  he  would  go  out  into  the  world  and  content 
himself  with  making  a  fortune.  It  needs  no  great  learning  to 
do  that.  Are  not  all  of  our  rich  men  notoriously  ignorant  of 
all  except  the  art  of  money-getting  ?  And  after  all,  is  not  a 
fortune — a  large  fortune,  the  one  great  good  in  this  life, — the 
one  thing  that  everybody  is  striving  after  with  heart  and 


42  XEVER    AGAIN. 

soul  and  brain, — the  one  thing  that  now  more  than  ever  the 
world  bows  down  to  and  adores, — the  one  powerful  lever  that 
lifts  a  man  to  place,  either  as  a  leader  of  society,  presiding 
officer  of  a  great  party,  or  member  of  a  cabinet  ?  Luther  knew 
but  little  of  New  York,  but  he  knew  that  it  was  the  residence 
of  Astor,  and  Vanderbilt,  and  Stewart;  and  can  it  be  expected 
that  an  imaginative  youth  will  remain  blind  to  the  glory  of 
their  achievements  as  reflected,  almost  from  day  to  day,  in 
the  columns  of  the  city  press,  or  in  the  conversations  of  the 
country  store,  post-office  or  bar-room. 

This  spirit  had  been  further  stimulated  by  two  or  three 
visits  to  Peekskill,  and  the  encouraging  conversation  of  Cap 
tain  Combings.  But  the  desire  of  some  change  had  received 
its  highest  energy  from  the  increasing  discomforts  and  vexa 
tions  of  his  domestic  life.  The  relations  between  his  brother 
John  and  himself  had  become  those  of  determined  and  des 
perate  hostility.  Stern  commands  and  abusive  words  only 
roused  in  him  a  spirit  of  resistance.  This,  in  turn,  exasper 
ated  the  elder  brother,  who  felt  bound  to  enforce  submission ; 
and  the  consequence  was  a  state  of  open  warfare,  which,  as 
John  had  grown  to  manhood,  fell  most  heavily  upon  the 
younger  and  weaker,  although  not  unfrequently  in  their  per 
sonal  contests,  Luther,  after  being  soundly  beaten,  would  con 
trive,  by  a  well-hurled  stone,  to  take  a  satisfactory  revenge. 

Poor  Mrs.  Lansdale  often  besought  Luther  with  many 
tears  to  submit  to  John's  authority,  and  to  try  to  live  with  him 
on  more  peaceable  terms ;  but  as  often  as  he  promised  to  do 
so,  some  fresh  act  of  tyranny,  some  new  indignity  would  ren 
der  all  his  good  resolutions  impossible  of  performance. 

Upon  John,  Mrs.  Lansdale's  gentle  voice  had  but  little 
effect.  With  uncommon  energy,  however,  she  insisted  that 
Luther  should  be  kept  at  school,  instead  of  being  compelled 
to  stay  at  home  and  work  upon  the  farm.  By  this  means  she 
succeeded  in  suspending  for  several  hours  in  the  day  the 
broils  which  she  so  much  deplored  but  could  not  prevent. 

Frequently  Luther  proposed  to  his  mother  that  she  should 
permit  him  to  accept  the  offer  of  her  old  admirer,  Captain 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


43 


Combings ;  but  she  could  not  make  up  her  mind  to  part  with 
him,  although  she  freely  admitted  that  it  would  be  perhaps 
the  best  thing  that  he  could  do.  "  But  then,  Luther,"  she 
would  exclaim  a  moment  after,  as  if  seeking  reasons  for  jus 
tifying  her  decision,  "  what  should  we  do  without  you — you 
are  so  handy  with  the  tools  ?  None  of  your  brothers  are  good 
for  anything  at  tinkering ;  they  couldn't  now  make  one  of  your 
new-fashioned  goose-yokes  after  seeing  you  do  it  twenty  times. 
Or,  supposing  your  dam  and  water-wheel,  or  some  of  the 
gearing  should  give  out,  and  you  were  not  here,  we  should 
have  to  work  the  churn  again  by  hand." 

Luther  had  too  much  affection  for  his  mother,  and  too 
keen  a  sense  of  filial  duty  to  think  of  going  without  her  con 
sent.  Besides,  he  had  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart  a  lurking 
fear  of  the  unknown — a  secret  dread  of  knocking  away  the 
dog-shores  of  habit  which  alone  held  him  to  the  domestic 
stocks,  and  of  launching  out  into  the  great  ocean  of  life, 
which  served  very  much  to  counter-balance  his  intense  curios 
ity.  It  needed  something  more  than  the  promptings  of  the 
spirit  of  adventure  and  the  persecutions  of  his  brother  to 
drive  him  out  from  home,  and  that  something  soon  came,  at 
first  in  the  form  of  ambition  and  the  desire  of  knowledge, 
and  then  in  the  shape  of  mortified  vanity,  pride,  and  }ove. 

How  or  in  what  way  Mrs.  Lansdale  raised  the  sums  neces 
sary  for  Luther's  support  at  Dutchess  County  Academy  was 
never  known.  Trinkets,  the  jeweller  in  Maiden  Lane,  if  ques 
tioned,  could  perhaps  tell  of  some  nice  little  bargains  that  he 
made — a  pair  of  ear-rings  with  diamond  drops  for  half  their  val 
ue,  and  quite  a  pretty  set  of  coral,  fuschia  pattern,  that  Colonel 
Lansdale  it  was  well-known  had  in  his  extravagant  bachelor 
days  bought  at  Naples  and  given  ever  so  much  money  for 
at  a  time  when  coral  was  not  worth  one-third  what  it  is  now. 
At  any  rate,  Mrs.  Lansdale  did  raise  the  money — a  few 
hundred  dollars  only,  and  Luther  commenced  his  academic 
course. 

To  say  that  he  worked  hard  would  be  but  doing  him  scant 
justice.  He  really  overworked  himself,  urged  on  by  the 


44  NEVER  AGAIN. 

conviction  that  his  mother's  means  were  limited,  that  they 
probably  would  be  soon  exhausted,  and  that  his  academic 
career  might  at  any  moment  come  to  an  end.  The  first  year 
passed  rapidly  and  pleasantly,  and  the  second  was  entered 
upon  but  with  many  misgivings  ;  in  fact  Luther  had  begged 
his  mother  more  than  once  in  his  letters  to  give  up  the  con 
test  with  John,  and,  looking  only  to  her  own  peace  and  com 
fort,  let  him — Luther — go  out  into  the  world  and  begin  his 
battle  for  fortune  at  once.  His  sense  of  the  instability  of  his 
position,  while  urging  him  to  improve  every  moment  of  his 
time,  grew  so  strong  that  it  needed  but  the  slighest  push  of 
circumstance  to  topple  him  over,  and  this  push  came  about  in 
the  absurdest  manner ;  but  acting  on  such  a  sensitive  com 
pound  of  pride  and  humility,  imagination  and  sense,  knowl 
edge  and  ignorance,  it  was  more  than  enough  in  his  uncer 
tain  state  of  mind  to  decide  him.  The  blow  fell,  and  although 
as  Mercutio  says,  "  the  wound  was  not  as  wide  as  a  barn-door 
or  as  deep  as  a  well,"  it  was  enough. 

The  principal  of  the  female  department  happened  to  be 
fat,  fair,  and  almost  forty,  and  with  her  it  suited  Luther's 
capricious  fancy  to  fall  desperately  in  love.  He  never  told 
his  love,  nor  even  attempted  to  manifest  it  by  the  usual  little 
attentions ;  he  was  too  much  in  awe  of  his  divinity ;  but  if 
ever  there  was  a  stately,  dignified,  but  withal  rather  good- 
looking,  middle-aged  woman  adored  at  a  respectful  distance 
in  silence,  with  a  slight  touch  of  despair,  by  a  youthful  but 
ardent  lover,  Miss  Deborah  Doolittle  wes  the  one. 

The  influence  of  Luther's  passion  proved  not  unfavorable 
to  his  studies,  especially  in  the  department  of  public  speaking 
and  English  composition.  He  devoted  his  best  energies  to 
these  branches.  That  she  would  hear  him  speak  and  listen 
to  his  compositions,  fired  his  ambition.  At  the  same  time  he 
hoped,  by  a  judicious  choice  of  speeches,  and  the  artful  in 
fusion  of  delicate  allusions  in  his  compositions,  to  open  her 
eyes  to  the  state  of  his  affections.  For  a  long  while  he 
labored  with  this  design,  but  with  no  very  marked  success. 
Sometimes  he  fancied  that  he  could  perceive  the  evidences  of 


NEVER  AGAIN.  45 

emotion  as  he  uttered,  with  his  eyes  directed  full  upon  her, 
some  tender  sentiment ;  but  he  never  could  make  up  his  mind 
whether  it  was  a  cold,  unimpassioned  admiration  of  the  author 
or  orator,  or  something  of  a  warmer  and  more  affectionate 
feeling  for  the  individual. 

A  travelling  book  pedlar  brought  matters  to  a  crisis. 
Luther's  only  dollar  went  for  a  morocco-bound,  gilt-edged 
album.  The  pure  white  pages  upon  which  so  much  glowing 
and  touching  sentiment  might  be  written  presented  irresistible 
attractions.  Who  with  the  slightest  literary  turn  has  not  felt 
the  allurement  and  the  charm  ?  The  unsullied  expanse  of 
paper  appeals  as  directly  and  as  forcibly  to  the  imaginative 
youth  as  ever  did  the  virgin  snows  of  the  Alps,  or  the  unspot 
ted  fields  of  the  pole,  to  the  most  daring  climber  or  explorer 
— saying,  "  Come,  track  me ;  over  and  across  me  lies  Parnas 
sus  with  Musagetus  himself  and  his  sacred  nine  waiting  to 
crown  the  Great  Poet."  Luther  had  really  quite  a  pretty  talent 
for  verse-making.  He  had  frequently  exhibited  it  to  the  ad 
miration  of  the  whole  school.  He  must  commence  himself  with 
something  original  before  soliciting  contributions  from  others. 
What  better  than  a  delicate  and  nicely  turned  address  to  the 
object  of  his  affections  ?  She  herself  was  a  poetess.  A  piece 
in  the  Poughkeepsie  Eagle  had  been  signed  with  her  initials, 
although  some  said  that  D.  D.  stood  for  doctor  of  divinity. 
It  was  rumored  that  she  had  written  something  fine  for  Harper's 
Magazine,  and  her  name  had  even  been  mentioned  among 
the  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  authors  of  "  Beautiful  Snow." 
Some  allusion,  therefore,  to  her  as  a  poetess  would  be  the  proper 
thing — it  would  feather  his  shaft  and  carry  it  straight  to  the 
mark.  A  poetical  oestrum  that  interrupted  his  studies  for 
twenty-four  hours  resulted  in  the  following  lines  : 

High  o'er  the  surge,  on  craggy  rough  Leucate, 
Pale,  tearful  Sappho  wails  her  wretched  fate  : 
With  reckless  step  she  seeks  the  awful  steep, 
Waves  her  wild  anus,  and  dares  the  desperate  leap. 
Detested  Phaou  !  scorn  of  all  true  bards, 
To  thus  contemn  fair  Sappho's  fond  regards  ! 


46  NEVER  AGAIN. 

Not  thus  with  thce,  who  rivallest  Sappho's  strain, 
Not  thine  to  fondly  smile,  and  smile  in  vain, — 
Not  thine  a  Phaon's  cold  contempt  to  prove, 
But  thine  each  heart,  with  slightest  look,  to  move. 
Dost  doubt  thy  power?     Ah,  try  it  then  on  me  ; 
Try  if,  like  Phaon,  loving  smiles  I  flee  ; 
Try  me,  if  wanting  Phaon's  grace — his  art, 
I  want  not,  too,  his  cold,  impassive  heart ! 

Luther  showed  his  verses  to  two  of  his  schoolmates  in 
whose  literary  judgment  he  had  most  confidence. 

"  First  rate,"  exclaimed  Joe  Fitchet.  "  Dang  me,  if  it  isn't 
as  good  as  anything  in  the  Ledger;  it'll  fetch  her,  sure  pop." 

"  Fetch  who  ? "  demanded  Luther,  indignantly. 

"  Oh  !  go  'long  now,"  put  in  Bill  Gabson.  "  Don't  you  go 
for  to  act  like  an  old  turkey-gobbler  with  his  head  in  a  corn- 
shook,  and  think  that  nobody  don't  see  you.  Don't  we  know 
who  your  Sappho  is  ?  I  should  just  like  to  see  her  jump  off  a 
big  rock  ;  wouldn't  she  come  down  all  ker-flop.  She'd  shake 
the  poetry  out  of  all  creation.  People  would  think  that  Mount 
Toby  had  turned  a  summersault,  or  that  a  cattle  train  had 
telescoped  the  Harlem  Express." 

Luther  closed  his  book  with  a  bang,  and  slamming  it  into 
his  drawer,  rushed  out  for  a  solitary  walk  without  waiting  for 
any  further  criticisms  on  his  poetry. 

The  next  day  he  despatched  the  book  into  the  girl's 
department,  with  a  verbal  request  through  the  bearer  for  con 
tributions  to  its  pages.  Unfortunately,  however,  after  having 
racked  his  brains  for  some  kind  of  motto  or  title-page  for  that 
portion  of  it  in  which  he  wished  the  girls  to  write,  and  having 
composed  and  rejected  a  dozen  verses,  in  despair  of  an  ele 
gant  simplicity  he  suddenly  selected  the  most  awkward  piece 
of  doggerel  of  them  all : 

"  Dear  Ladys  please  to  here  indite 
A  few  lines  for  this  daring  wight ; 
He  hopes  that  you  will  not  refuse, 
And  his  presumption  you'll  excuse." 

This  was  bad  enough,  but  unluckily,  in  his  anxiety  respecting 


NEVER  AGAIN.  47 

the  chirography,  he  contrived  to  make  a  most  unfortunate 
and  patent  blunder  in  spelling. 

With  a  trembling  heart  he  prepared  himself  to  await  for 
two  or  three  days  the  result.  Would  Miss  Deborah  Doo- 
little  see  it?  Would  she  condescend  to  write  in  it?  And  if 
she  did  write  in  it,  would  her  composition  consist  of  original  or 
selected  verse  ?  Conjecture,  stimulated  by  love,  hope  and 
fear,  was  actively  at  work,  but  completely  at  fault. 

Luther's  suspense,  however,  was  not  destined  to  be  of  long 
duration.  The  slow-houred  school-day  had  come  to  its  close, 
and  he  was  locking  up  his  drawer  of  books  for  the  night,  when 
his  attention  was  attracted  by  the  voice  of  a  little  girl  at  his 
side. 

"  Here  is  your  album,"  she  said  ;  "  Miss  Doolittle  told  me 
to  bring  it  in,  and  give  it  to  you,"  and  putting  the  book  upon 
his  desk,  with  a  blush  and  a  courtesy,  she  ran  from  the  room. 

It  was  of  no  consequence  how  quickly  she  went.  Luther 
could  not  have  asked  her  for  an  explanation  had  she  stayed  an 
hour.  There  lay  the  book  returned  to  him — contemptuously 
returned  too,  as  he  felt ;  and  his  request  for  contributions  re 
fused  !  But  perhaps  something  had  been  written  in  it  ?  He 
did  not,  however,  dare  open  it — he  felt  a  presentiment  of  some 
terrible  blow  to  his  self-love. 

With  an  outward  calmness  of  manner  which  strangely 
belied  his  internal  agitation,  he  seized  the  book,  put  it  under 
his  arm,  and  set  out  to  the  little  lake  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
village.  As  he  went  along  he  pondered  a  variety  of  solu 
tions  suggested  by  his  imagination,  but  it  was  some  time  be 
fore  he  could  muster  up  the  courage  to  seek  the  true  explana 
tion  in  the  book  itself.  Mentally  reproaching  himself  for 
being  "such  a  darned  fool,"  he  turned  aside,  and  leaping  a 
fence,  seated  himself  out  of  sight  from  the  highway  on  a 
fallen  log.  The  level  beams  of  the  setting  sun  were  lingering 
upon  the  surrounding  hill-tops,  masses  of  golden  and  ruby 
clouds  hung  in  graceful  canopy  over  the  burnished  and  glitter 
ing  surface  of  the  little  lake.  As  he  opened  the  book  the 
pages  assumed  a  pinky  hue,  and,  as  he  fancied,  blushed  for 


48  .VAT/: A'  AGAL\~. 

his  coming  shame.  He  turned  them  slowly  over,  but  could 
discover  no  marks  of  the  pen.  His  breath  came  again,  and 
his  agony  of  doubt  and  fear  began  to  subside.  "  There  must 
have  been  some  mistake  about  it — but  what  is  this  ?  Ha ! 
a  pencil  mark  !  "  He  read,  and  again  he  read, — when  a  dark 
ness  came  across  his  eyes.  All  nature  seemed  turning  topsy 
turvy — the  trees  began  to  dance,  Mount  Toby  shook  with  sup 
pressed  laughter,  and  East  Mountain  nodded  derisively  to 
West  Mountain.  The  more  distant  hills  began  to  wriggle  and 
writhe  like  corn-ricks  in  a  hurricane,  and  the  surface  of  the 
lake  to  split  itself  up  and  fly  in  pieces  like  fragments  of  a 
huge  mirror. 

The  darkness  passed,  and  to  the  horror  succeeded  rage — 
rage  at  his  own  stupidity  and  folly.  He  tore  his  hair,  ground 
his  teeth,  gesticulated  furiously  with  clenched  fists,  and  hurl 
ing  the  unlucky  volume  to  the  ground,  stamped  upon  it  with 
all  his  force. 

A  calm  succeeded,  but  it  was  the  calm  of  despair.  He 
picked  up  the  mutilated  book,  and  read  the  pencilled  words 
again:  "The  ladies  do  not  please  to  do  anything  for  a  boy 
who  can't  spell."  There  could  be  no  doubt  that  it  was  her 
hand.  There  in  glowing  plumbago  were  his  own  stately,  sharp- 
angled  letters.  But  he  could  not  blame  her.  He  deserved  it 
all,  and  more.  True,  it  was  the  blunder  of  carelessness  rather 
than  ignorance  ;  but  could  he  make  any  explanation  ?  Who 
would  believe  it?  Was  it  not  notorious  that  he  was  weak  in 
orthography?  Ah,  there  was  the  sting !  It  is  always  the  one 
little  lurking  drop  of  truth  which  gives  bitterness  to  any 
amount  of  misrepresentation.  Simple,  pure  falsehood,  no  mat 
ter  how  malicious,  seldom  hurts  anybody.  However  much  he 
might  excel  in  other  branches,  he  couldn't  spell ;  and  what  was 
more,  he  couldn't  learn  to  spell.  He  had  tried  it  faithfully, 
and  failed.  It  was  clear  that  he  had  no  memory  for  the  col 
location  of  letters.  There  were  boys  in  the  school  for  whose 
talents  he  had  the  most  profound  contempt — dunces — regular 
pig-headed  fellows  who  could  beat  him  in  spelling  with  ease. 
And  he  had  comforted  himself— ass  that  he  was! — with  the 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


49 


reflection  that  Napoleon  JBonaparte  spelled  execrably!     Poor 
consolation  now,  in  this  agony  of  shame  and  vexation ! 

But  it  was  not  alone  the  mortification  of  having  made  such 
a  mistake  that  overwhelmed  him.  It  was  as  much  the  con 
temptuous  terms  in  which  the  reproof  was  conveyed.  To  be 
called  a  boy — and  by  her,  too !  He ! — a  young  man  almost 
eighteen,  and  old  enough  to  be  desperately  in  love  with  a  woman 
of  thirty-five !  "  Oh,  stupid  fool !  dolt !  idiot ! "  he  groaned, 
as  the  wounds  of  love  and  vanity  gaped  and  smarted.  "But 
I  have  one  resource — never  shall  she  see  me  again !  I  will 
go — if  I  have  to  go  penniless,  friendless,  and  without  my 
mother's  blessing — far  from  this  scene  of  my  disgrace  ! " 

Luther  rushed  back  to  his  room,  and  without  saying  a 
word  to  any  one,  packed  up  his  small  store  of  books  and  cloth 
ing,  and  taking  his  trunk  upon  his  shoulders,  started  for  the 
depot.  There  was  an  evening  way  train,  and  luckily  he  had 
left  in  his  pocket  just  fifty  cents — the  fare  between  his 
school  and  the  station  nearest  to  his  home.  By  ten  o'clock 
he  was  out  of  the  train,  had  trudged  the  intervening  four 
miles,  and  was  in  the  arms  of  his  mother.  He  found  his 
mother  alone,  and  without  circumlocution  announced  his  inten 
tion  of  leaving  home  forever. 

"You  know,"  he  exclaimed,  "that  I  have  anticipated  mat 
ters  only  by  a  few  days  ;  our  term  lacks  but  a  fortnight  of  its 
end.  I  could  not  continue  there  another  term.  You  know  it 
would  be  impossible  for  you  to  furnish  the  money  either  for 
my  tuition  or  board ;  and  if  you  could,  I  will  not  consent  to  any 
more  sacrifices  for  me.  I  am  not  worth  it.  Oh,  if  you  knew 
all,  you  would  see  that  I  am  not  worth  it !  Let  me  go  away 
and  get  my  own  living.  Let  me  seek  my  fortune  in  the  city  • 
I  am  sure  I  shall  find  it.  I  should  like  to  pursue  my  studies, 
but  every  day  that  I  am  kept  from  actually  doing  something 
in  the  world  I  feel  to  be  lost ;  ever}-  time  I  read  the  Herald 
I  feel  guilty ;  I  feel  that  I,  too,  ought  to  be  laying  the  foun 
dations  of  a  big  fortune.  Oh,  I  must  begin  mother ;  I  must 
begin  at  once  !  " 

Carried  away  by  his  impetuosity,  Mrs.  Lansdale  was  at 
4 


50  NEVER   AGAIN, 

length  compelled  to  give  her  consent,  and  she  did  so  with  less 
reluctance  when  he  finally  confessed  the  blunder  of  the  album 
and  admitted  the  peculiar  state  of  his  affections.  The  uncom 
fortable  relations  between  the  two  brothers  also  rendered 
some  change  advisable,  and  Mrs.  Lansdale  admitted  that  for 
some  time  it  had  been  merely  a  question  of  time  and  manner, 
and  that  she  had  long  felt  that  sooner  or  later  her  beloved 
boy  would  be  compelled  to  leave  home.  She  was  too  wise  a 
woman  to  argue  the  question  of  blighted  love,  or  to  ridicule 
his  feelings.  She  knew  that  in  a  day  or  two  his  excited 
fancy  would  cool  down,  and  that  in  the  meantime  it  would  be 
useless  to  try  and  convince  him  that  the  Miss  Doolittle  of  his 
imagination  had  no  real  existence.  She  knew  that  an  igno 
rance  of  life  and  the  world  so  dense  could  only  be  cured  by 
contact  with  the  actual  and  real.  Alas,  that  the  cure  in  most 
cases  should  be  so  rapid  and  so  complete ! 

It  was  finally  settled  that  Luther  should  go  as  soon  as  his 
mother  could  prepare  his  small  kit  of  clothing,  and  that  noth 
ing  should  be  said  to  John  about  it  until  after  his  departure. 
His  mother  also  proposed  that  he  should  wait  until  he  found 
one  of  the  neighbors  going  down  to  Peekskill,  with  whom  he 
might  ride,  but  Luther  would  not  listen  to  any  such  idea. 
Captain  Combings  was  known  to  be  at  Peekskill;  in  a  day  or 
two  at  most  he  would  be  getting  under  way.  Luther  was 
anxious  to  be  off,  and  his  own  legs  he  knew  from  good  experi 
ence  would  be  no  poor  dependence  for  a  trip  of  fifteen  or  six 
teen  miles. 

The  next  day  his  mother  was  employed  in  mending  and 
putting  in  order  his  few  garments.  When  night  came,  and  the 
family  had  retired  to  rest,  she  sat  up  w.ih  him  until  a  late 
hour  by  the  kitchen-fire  talking  over  his  plans.  She  gave  him 
what  most  mothers  give — a  great  deal  of  good  advice,  which, 
like  most  young  men,  he  at  the  time  promised  faithfully  to  fol 
low  ;  and  in  addition  she  gave  him  an  old  eel-skin  pouch  con 
taining  twenty-five  dollars  in  gold,  which,  with  many  cautions 
against  the  sharpers  and  pickpockets  of  the  city,  she  showed 
him  how  to  strap  around  his  waist.  The  interview  finished 


NEVER   AGAIN.  51 

with  a  prayer  and  her  blessing,  and  then  a  good  hearty  cry 
and  a  good  hearty  kissing. 

As  no  sleep  visited  Luther's  eyes  that  night,  he  was  up 
bright  and  early  before  John,  who  had  returned  the  evening 
before,  was  stirring.  A  bowl  of  bread  and  milk  was  in  read 
iness  for  him,  but  he  could  swallow  only  a  few  mouthfuls. 
His  mother  helped  him  to  strap  his  kit  on  his  back,  and  ac 
companied  him  to  the  high-road.  One  last  embrace,  and  she 
knelt  upon  the  stile  with  her  apron  to  her  eyes.  Luther  lin 
gered  on  the  other  side,  but  with  a  wave  of  her  hand  she 
motioned  him  away.  "  Go,  my  son,"  she  exclaimed,  "  and 
may  the  God  of  the  widow  and  the  fatherless  go  with  you ! " 

Luther  trudged  on  sturdily  for  a  few  moments,  and  then 
looking  back  he  could  still  dimly  discern  her  kneeling  figure 
in  the  glimmering  light  of  the  early  dawn. 


CHAPTER   III. 

Launching  Out — The  Highlands  of  the  Hudson — A  Poor  Pun — A 
Terrible  Catastrophe — An  Absurd  Discussion — The  Rescue — The 
Great  City. 

THE  first  and  most  pleasing  object  that  Luther  noticed 
upon  coming  in  sight  of  the  village  of  Peekskill  was 
the  red  swallow-tailed  pennant,  flying  from  the  Montaigne, 
Captain  Combings'  old  sloop.  He  reached  her  just  in  time 
to  step  on  board  before  she  swung  clear  of  the  wharf. 

"All  right,  Luther,"  exclaimed  the  Captain,  "jump  aboard 
— glad  to  see  you.  So  you've  come  at  last — thought  you 
would.  Brought  your  traps  with  you  ?  Well,  take  your  bun 
dle  down  into  the  cabin,  and  then  come  up  and  I'll  give  you 
a  rope  to  haul  on.  We  will  talk  about  your  mother  when  we 
get  out  into  the  stream." 

Very  much  to  Luther's  surprise,  and  at  first  somewhat  to 
his  disappointment,  the  course  of  the  Montaigne  proved  to  be 
up  the  river,  before  a  strong  tide  and  wind. 

"  You  thought  you  were  going  to  York,  eh  ? "  said  Captain 
Combings.  "  Well,  so  we  will,  but  not  just  yet.  I  have  an 
engagement  up-stream  for  a  couple  of  loads  of  brick,  and  af 
ter  that,  my  boy,  we  will  go  down  to  the  city.  Look  out  for 
sights  then  !  But  for  my  part,  I  don't  think  any  sights  on  this 
side  of  the  Atlantic  can  be  finer  than  these  we  are  just  com 
ing  to.  Here  we  are  at  the  entrance  to  what  is  called  the 
Highlands  of  the  North  River.  This  big  mountain  on  the 
right  is  Anthony's  Nose.  What  a  famous  nose  Anthony  Van 
Corlear,  the  old  trumpeter,  must  have  had  to  have  suggested 
the  name  ?  Below  there,  to  the  left,  is  Stony  Point.  You 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


53 


recollect  the  story  ? — the  surprise,  the  desperate  assault,  and 
the  bloody  fight  The  taking  of  that  fort,  by  Wayne,  was  as 
gallant  a  feat  as  was  performed  in  the  Revolutionary  War,  or  in 
any  other  war.  And  there,  right  in  front  of  us,  you  see  that 
plateau  where  you  can  trace  some  old  ruins.  That  was  Fort 
Montgomery,  and  commanded  the  entrance  to  this  part  of  the 
river  from  below.  Clinton  took  it,  you  know,  but  he  couldn't 
get  any  further  up  the  river ;  and  as  Burgoyne  could  not  get 
down  the  river  to  join  him,  the  consequence  is  that  you  and  I 
are  free-born  Americans  and  sailing  to-day  in  the  old  Mon 
taigne  after  a  load  of  brick." 

The  breeze  had  fallen  to  a  gentle  zephyr — just  strong 
enough  to  give  steerage-way  to  the  sloop,  as  she  floated  silently 
in  the  deep  shadow  along  the  bases  of  the  overhanging  hills. 
A  dozen  broad  white  sails  were  in  sight,  some  slowly  moving 
up-stream  before  the  wind,  and  some  industriously  trying  to 
beat  in  short  tacks  to  windward.  As  the  tide  began  to  make 
against  them,  these  latter  would  let  run  their  halyards  and 
drop  their  anchors — the  sudden  sound  of  the  falling  canvas 
and  the  rattling  of  the  chains  skimming  the  surface  of  the 
smooth  water  and  arousing  the  echoes  of  the  surrounding 
hills. 

Luther  seated  himself  upon  the  deck,  and  leaned  back 
with  his  head  upon  the  low  tarfrail,  occasionally  arousing  him 
self  to  follow  the  movements  of  the  Captain's  forefinger  as  he 
pointed  out  spots  famous  in  history  or  tradition.  But  he  asked 
few  questions — he  was  too  full  of  the  whole  scene  to  attend  to 
the  details,  and  it  needed  not  the  historic  or  romantic  associa 
tions  of  particular  localities  to  heighten  his  emotion. 

Not  the  least  interesting  object  was  the  Captain  himself, 
as  he  stood  with  one  leg  resting  on  the  tiller,  his  elbow  upon 
his  leg,  and  his  chin  in  his  hand.  An  old  straw  hat  adorned 
his  het;d ;  a  dingy  cotton  shirt,  and  a  pair  of  gray  woollen 
trowsers,  turned  up  around  the  legs  of  a  stout  pair  of  cow 
hide  boots,  completed  his  apparel.  In  person  he  was  short 
but  stoutly  built,  with  something  more  of  a  salt-water  air 
about  him  than  is  ordinarily  to  be  seen  in  the  captains  of 


54  NEVER   AGAIN. 

North  River  sloops.  He  had  a  roll  in  his  gait  that  was  never 
got  from  the  swell  of  Tappan  Sea  or  Haverstraw  Bay.  His 
eyes  had  evidently  seen  foreign  service ;  one  of  them  in  par 
ticular  had  a  comical  twist  that  seemed  to  speak  of  a  long 
look  out  for  squalls.  A  brilliant  head  of  red  hair,  a  com 
plexion  that  looked  not  unlike  a  piece  of  purple  morocco 
fresh  from  the  pomette  of  the  grainer,  and  a  broad  humorous 
mouth  full  of  strong  white  teeth,  constituted  all  his  claims 
to  physical  beauty ;  but  there  was  something  more  and  better 
in  the  simple  but  great  and  brave  spirit  that  informed  all  his 
features,  and  spoke  in  every  tone,  glance,  and  gesture. 

He  had,  as  he  told  Luther,  begun  life  as  a  cabin-boy  in  a 
Canton  ship ;  had  done  a  sailor's  duty  before  the  mast  in  every 
quarter  of  the  globe,  and  at  last  had  risen  to  the  command  of 
a  crazy  old  bark  in  which  he  had  made  several  voyages  to 
Europe  and  the  Brazils.  Becoming  tired  of  the  sea,  or  rather 
of  his  vessel  and  her  owners,  and  having  saved  money  enough 
to  build  a  sloop  of  his  own,  he  had  resolved  to  settle  down  to 
the  more  regular,  and,  if  less  dignified,  less  hazardous,  navi 
gation  of  the  Hudson. 

"  Look  there,  Luth,"  exclaimed  the  Captain,  after  a  pause 
in  the  conversation,  "  look  there  ;  that  white  thing  on  the  edge 
of  the  bank  up  yonder  is  Kosciusczko's  monument,  and  this 
point  of  land  around  which  the  river  bends  is  West  Point,  and 
there,  way  up  on  the  top  of  the  hill  there,  those  crumbling 
walls  are  the  ruins  of  Fort  Putnam.  Take  a  good  look  on 
'em,  Luth,  for  they  are  just  about — to  my  mind — the  finest 
thing  on  the  Hudson.  'Tisn't  because  Fort  Put  is  the  high 
est  hill  or  the  handsomest,  but  because  it  has  a  kind  of  human 
look  about  it.  Now,  the  other  hills  of  the  Highlands  are 
very  beautiful  and  very  grand,  and  they  throw  a  shadow  upon 
one's  thoughts,  dark  and  deep  as  this  upon  the  river,  but  they 
have  got  nothing  upon  them  for  the  eye  or  the  fancy  to  rest 
upon,  except  rocks  and  trees.  A  fellow  looks  at  them,  Luther 
but  before  he  can  fairly  clinch  them  in  his  mind's  grasp, 
he  has  to  go  way  back  beyond  the  days  of  old  Noah.  Aye  ! 
even  beyond  the  days  of  Adam,  and  that  strains  the  imag- 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


55 


ination  terribly.  It  wants  a  cable-laid  fancy  to  stand  such  a 
pull.  No  inch-a-half  running  stuff  is  strong  enough  to  hold 
on  to  those  big  hills  surging  about  in  the  old  ocean  of  chaos, 
and  even  if  it  was,  you'd  have  to  take  a  good  hearty  turn 
about  the  bitts  of  the  Bible  to  keep  your  catechism  instincts 
from  being  jerked  right  out  of  you  ;  mere  creeds  and  articles 
and  confessions  and  doctrines,  and  all  such  kind  of  church 
deck-stoppers,  wouldn't  hold  ten  minutes. 

"  Now  look  at  Fort  Put  there — there  is  something  human 
— not  new,  poor,  sixpenny  human,  but  old,  respectable  and 
venerable  human ;  but  not  too  old,  not  beyond  the  memory 
of  man  or  the  records  of  history.  You  don't  have  to  go  back 
beyond  the  days  of  '76  before  you  get  an  understanding  of 
the  means  and  ends  of  that  hill ;  you  feel  at  once  that  it  was 
just  shoved  up  there  to  put  the  fort  upon." 

"  If  the  hill  was  shoved  up  out  of  the  ground  expressly  to 
put  the  fort  upon,"  interrupted  Luther,  "  it  seems  very  proper 
that  the  fort  should  be  named  Fort  Put." 

"  Luther,"  replied  the  Captain  reproachfully,  "  I  didn't  ex 
pect  that  of  you.  I  didn't  think  that  you  would  go  for  to  in 
dulge  in  any  small  wit  right  under  Kosciusczko's  monument, 
and  within  sight  of  those  old  walls  and  ramparts  around  which 
still  play  the  memories  of  Arnold's  treason  and  Andre's  fate. 
Look  up  there,  Luther,  and  tell  me,  if  you  can,  whether  the 
rosy  light  illuminating  the  gray  stones  of  old  Fort  Put  is  the 
lingering  beams  of  the  setting  sun  or  the  condensed  glory  of 
the  American  Revolution." 

Luther  felt  himself  justly  rebuked  for  his  miserable  at 
tempt  at  a  pun,  amid  such  scenes  and  associations,  and  for  a 
while  there  was  a  pause  in  the  conversation. 

"  But,"  resumed  the  Captain,  "  it  is  not  alone  for  the  stones 
and  traditions  connected  with  scenes  like  these  that  we  look 
at  them  with  pleasure.  There  is  something  more  than  all 
that.  They  give,  as  I  said  before,  a  human  feeling  and  a 
human  interest  to  nature.  Perhaps  we  don't  know  anything 
about  their  history  or  traditions.  You  don't  know  who  built 
them,  or  just  what  kind  of  a  crew — whether  lubbers  or  able- 


5 6  NEVER   AGAIV. 

hands,  buccaneers  or  fair-traders — manned  the  battlements  ; 
there  they  are,  time-honored  evidences  of  man's  labors,  of  his 
sufferings  and  his  joys.  And  the  landscape  is  all  the  richer. 
It  is  in  this  way,  and  only  in  this  way,  that  the  famous 
Rhine  beats  the  Hudson." 

"  You  have  seen  the  Rhine  ? "  demanded  Luther. 

"  Yes.  You  see  I  was  once  mate  of  the  bark  Zampa, 
and  we  were  bound  to  Hamburg.  Well,  we  drew  too  much 
water  to  go  up  to  the  town,  so  we  moored  to  one  of  the  spiles 
standing  in  the  river,  and  began  to  unload  into  a  lighter.  It 
had  been  pretty  cold  for  several  days,  when  suddenly  there 
came  on  a  thaw  and  a  freshet ;  the  river  rose,  and  the  ice 
broke  and  came  down  upon  us  in  great  floes,  one  of  which — 
a  ten-acre  piece — cut  a  hole  in  the  Zampa's  bows  that  in  about 
five  minutes  saved  us  any  further  trouble  with  either  ship  or 
cargo.  She  went  down,  and  when  or  how  they  got  her  up 
again  I  never  stopped  to  inquire.  I  knew  they  could  do  noth 
ing  with  her  until  spring,  so  I  started  for  home ;  but  first  I 
thought  I'd  see  something  of  the  country.  I  cut  across  to 
Cologne,  took  a  trip  up  the  Rhine  as  far  as  Strasburg,  and 
then  through  France  to  Paris,  and  so  on  to  Havre  and  home. 
But  you  know  all  about  the  Rhine  from  your  school-books,  I 
suppose  ? " 

Luther  modestly  denied  all  pretensions  to  a  complete 
knowledge. 

"  You  know  where  it  rises  ? "  demanded  the  Captain. 

"In  the  Alps  of  Switzerland,  by  three  small  heads." 

"  Good  !     And  what  lake  does  it  run  through  ? " 

"  Lake  Constance." 

"  An1  where  does  it  empty  ? " 

"  It  empties  itself  by  several  mouths  into  the  German 
Ocean." 

"  Smart  boy,  Luther ;  you'll  see  the  Rhine  one  of  these 
clays,  and  then  you  will  see  for  yourself  that  as  regards  the 
nature  of  the  stream  it  ain't  equal  to  this.  The  part  that 
folks  rave  about  is  very  much  like  our  Highlands  here,  but 
the  hills  are  really  not  so  fine.  However,  that  is  more  than 


NEVER  AGAIN.  57 

made  up  by  those  old  castles.  Just  imagine  every  hill  we 
have  passed  to-day  to  be  crowned  with  mellow-looking  ruins, 
like  old  Fort  Put,  and  you  will  get  an  idea  of  the  Rhine  be 
tween  Bonn  and  Mayence." 

Following  the  Captain's  directions,  Luther  was  endeavor 
ing  to  cap  each  peak  in  sight  with  an  old  ruined  fort,  incon 
gruously  jumbling  the  low  curtain  and  solid  bastion  of  mod 
ern  fortifications  with  the  tall  towers  and  turretted  walls  of 
medieval  defence,  when  the  roll  of  a  drum  floated  downward 
from  the  table-land  above,  and  was  followed  by  the  report  of 
a  cannon.  It  was  the  evening  gun  of  the  post,  and  announced 
that  the  cadets  were  engaged  at  parade.  The  breeze  had  now 
died  away  entirely ;  a  few  stars  began  to  show  themselves, 
and  the  shadows  of  the  surrounding  hills  flowed  down  like  a 
flood  of  ink  upon  the  bosom  of  the  river. 

The  sloop  was  well  in  under  the  right  bank  of  the  stream 
when  Captain  Combings  ordered  an  anchor  to  be  let  go,  the 
sails  hauled  down,  and  a  light  hoisted  on  the  forestay  to  indi 
cate  his  position  to  any  steamer  passing  in  the  night.  The 
caboose  fire  was  lighted,  and  a  fragrant  supper  of  ham  and 
eggs  prepared.  The  Captain  and  his  two  mates — crew  there 
was  none — then  filled  their  pipes,  and  after  a  half-hour's  smoke, 
retired  to  their  berths  in  the  little  cabin.  Room  had  been 
made  for  Luther  by  removing  from  its  shelf  the  Captain's 
library,  consisting  of  Shakespeare,  Montaigne's  essays,  a  vol 
ume  of  old  English  comedies,  with  Plutarch's  Lives,  Rollins' 
Ancient  History,  and  Russell's  Modern  Europe,  in  all  thirty 
or  forty  volumes,  well  thumbed  and  thoroughly  digested. 

For  a  while  Luther  remained  above,  after  the  others  had 
retired.  He  walked  the  deck,  speculating  on  the  new  pros 
pects  which  were  opening  to  him,  and  building  castles  in  the 
air  of  the  loftiest  description.  Now  and  then,  to  his  praise 
be  it  said,  notwithstanding  the  excited  state  of  his  imagina 
tion,  his  thoughts  turned  to  the  home  that  he  had  left  most 
probably  forever,  and  to  that  dear  loving  mother  whose  affec 
tion  had  lightened  so  many  of  his  childhood's  cares  and  trou 
bles.  Occasionally  he  paused,  and  leaning  over  the  main 


58  NEVER  AGAIN. 

boom  listened  to  the  dreamy  sounds  that  now  and  then  floated 
along  the  lazy  stillness  of  the  water — the  plashing  of  distant 
paddle-wheels,  or  the  rush  of  escaping  steam — the  lowing  of 
calves,  and  the  bleating  of  sheep  pent  up  in  market*  barges — 
the  doleful  tooting  of  a  solitary  owl — the  stridulous  song  of 
the  katydid — the  barking  of  dogs,  or  the  tones  of  the  human 
voice. 

Tired  out  at  last,  Luther  sought  his  berth,  or  book-shelf 
rather,  and  scrupulously  saying  his  customary  "  Now  I  lay  me," 
he  closed  his  eyes,  little  dreaming  of  the  terrible  shock  that 
was  to  greet  him  on  awaking. 

Luther's  sleep  was  disturbed  by  a  host  of  images,  among 
which  prominently  figured  the  face  of  Miss  Doolittle,  only 
instead  of  her  own  beautiful  nasal  organ,  she  seemed  to 
have  adopted  a  monstrous  mass  of  rock  which  the  Captain 
had  pointed  out  as  being  the  well-known  Anthony's  Nose. 
Half  awake  and  half  asleep,  he  turned  and  twisted  and 
groaned,  but  could  not  get  rid  of  that  nose.  It  was  An 
thony's  Nose,  and  yet  it  was  Miss  Doolittle's  nose — it  was  a 
mountain  of  rock,  and  yet  it  was  a  veritable  organ  of  flesh 
and  blood. 

Conscious  at  length  that  the  disagreeable  impression  was 
but  the  illusion  of  a  dream,  he  crawled  out  of  his  berth,  and 
vigorously  rubbed  his  eyes  until  fairly  awake:  it  was  about 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning.  He  pulled  on  his  trowsers,  and 
stepped  up  the  narrow  companion-way  on  to  the  deck.  The 
night  was  "  pitch  dark '' — a  thick  canopy  of  clouds  being 
drawn  across  the  narrow  strip  of  sky  between  the  tops  of  the 
hills. 

Luther  noticed  that  the  signal  light  which  had  been  fas 
tened  in  the  forestay  had  gone  out,  and  he  hesitated  for  a 
moment  as  to  whether  he  should  call  one  of  the  men,  or  at 
tempt  to  re-light  it  himself.  At  this  moment  his  attention  was 
excited  by  the  sound  of  paddle-wheels  and  the  rush  of  a  boat 
through  the  water.  He  strained  his  eyes,  but  could  see  noth 
ing.  The  sounds  which  had  at  first  been  cut  off  and  dead 
ened  by  an  intervening  point  of  land  suddenly  grew  loud, 


NEVER    AGAIN. 


59 


louder,  louder  still.  The  steamer  had  just  rounded  the  point, 
and  was  evidently  close  aboard  of  them. 

"  She  is  certainly,"  muttered  Luther,  "going  to  give  us  a 
good  wide  berth  in  due  time." 

He  waited  a  moment,  but  there  was  no  change  in  her 
course  as  indicated  by  her  lights.  She  was  not  a  hundred 
yards  off,  and  coming  down  at  the  rate  of  twenty  miles  an 
hour. 

Luther  sent  up  a  shrill  shout  of  warning  to  the  steamer; 
and  then  bounding  to  the  companion-way,  Called  loudly  to  the 
Captain.  As  he  raised  himself  from  his  stooping  posture,  the 
steamer's  bow-light  hung  almost -over  his  head.  He  shut  his 
eyes  instinctively  at  the  appalling  proximity  of  the  monstrous 
vessel,  and  before  he  could  open  them,  her  bow  struck 
the  sloop  a  little  forward  of  midships,  and  with  a  sharp  crash 
cut  entirely  through  her  with  as  much  ease  as  if  she  had  been 
made  of  paper. 

Luther  clung  to  the  taffrail,  which  for  a  moment  was  tilted 
up  and  canted  over.  He  saw  the  figures  of  the  Captain  and 
his  men  struggling  from  the  companion-way,  and  then  a  rush 
of  water  took  him  off  his  feet  and  carried  him  deep  down  in 
the  whirlpool  of  the  sinking  vessel.  He  was,  however,  an 
active  and  buoyant  swimmer,  and  struggled  desperately  until 
at  last  he  found  himself  rising,  and  soon  his  head  came  above 
the  surface  of  the  water.  None  too  soon,  however,  for  his 
senses  had  almost  deserted  him,  and  he  was  a  minute  or  two 
before  he  could  comprehend  his  position. 

The  steamer  was  about  two  hundred  yards  off,  lying  to. 
There  was  the  noise  of  many  voices,  mingled  with  the  whiz 
zing  of  steam  from  the  escape-pipe,  and  the  plashing  of  boats 
as  they  fell  from  their  davits. 

"  Luther  !  Luther  !  "  shouted  the  stentorian  voice  of  Cap 
tain  Combings,  in  tones  of  intense  anxiety. 

"  Here  I  am,  sir,"  replied  Luther,  stretching  out  towards 
the  quarter  whence  came  the  Captain's  voice.  "  Can  I  do  any 
thing  for  you  ? " 

"  Do  anything  for  me  ?     Why  you've  done  the  best  thing 


6o  NEVER  AGAIN, 

for  me  in  answering  my  hail.  I  was  afraid  you  had  gone 
down  to  trie  bottom,  with  the  wreck,  and  the  river  here  is  two 
hundred  feet  deep." 

"  If  I  had  got  down  as  far  as  that,  it  would  have  been  all 
up  with  me,  I  guess,"  replied  Luther. 

"  I  guess  so  too,  but  you  are  all  sound ;  no  bones  broken, 
oh  ? " 

"  I  feel  all  right — just  as  if  I  could  swim  a  couple  of  miles 
or  so.  Shall  we  strike  out  for  the  shore  ?  It  can't  be  three 
hundred  yards  off." 

"  No,  no ;  we  should  land  in  the  bushes,  and  it  would  be 
hard  work  to  scale  those  rocks  barefoot.  Hold  on,  and  in  a 
minute  or  two  the  steamer's  boats  will  be  down  for  us.  I  can 
hear  the  oars  in  the  rowlocks.  I'll  give  them  a  hail." 

The  Captain  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  lungs,  and  was 
answered  as  well  by  the  boats  as  by  his  two  men,  who  were 
plashing  and  thrashing  the  water  in  a  manner  to  indicate  that, 
although  frightened,  they  were  accustomed  to  swimming,  and 
could  retain  their  position  on  the  surface  with  ease. 

"  All  safe  !  "  ejaculated  the  Captain.  "  Thank  God  for 
that ;  we  have  had  a  narrow  escape,  Luther.  Nothing  but  a 
special  interposition  of  Providence  could  have  saved  some  of 
us  from  being  smashed  up  by  the  wheels." 

"  Don't  you  think  that  it  was  a  special  interposition  of 
Providence  that  made  the  steamer  run  on  to  us  ? "  demanded 
Luther. 

"Well,  I  suppose  so,"  replied  the  Captain,  blowing  the 
water  from  his  mouth. 

"  Oughtn't  we  to  thank  God  for  that  too,  then,"  inquired 
Luther  with  a  slight  chuckling  laugh  at  the  absurdity  of  a  dis 
cussion  of  the  doctrine  of  special  Providences  under  such  cir 
cumstances. 

"  Well,  yes  ;  I  suppose  we  ought, — although  I  can't  see 
the  exact  ground  for  gratitude  in  the  case,  unless  it  was  that 
she  struck  us  forward  of  midships.  For  you  see,  Luther, 
if  she  had  struck  us  further  aft,  our  stern  would  have  been 
whirled  right  under  her  wheels,  and  then  " — 


NEVER  AGAIN.  6 1 

"  Then  no  special  interposition  of  Providence  would  have 
saved  us,"  said  Luther.  * 

"  Exactly;  but  here  comes  the  boat,"  exclaimed  the  Cap 
tain,  striking  out  vigorously,  and  not  unwilling  to  escape  a 
conversation  in  which  he  found  himself  rapidly  getting  beyond 
his  depth. 

The  steamer's  deck  was  all  alight  and  alive,  and  a  hun 
dred  anxious  faces  peered  down  upon  the  boats  as  they 
came  alongside.  Poor  Captain  Combings  had  had  no  time  to 
make  his  toilet,  and  he  was  compelled  to  mount  to  the  deck 
with  no  more  clothing  than  he  had  on  when  jumping  from 
his  berth.  His  single  scanty  cotton  garment  but  poorly  con 
cealed  his  confusion  and  dismay  at  the  sight  of  several  female 
passengers,  who,  with  night-caps  on  their  heads  and  a  mixed 
expression  of  curiosity  and  fear  in  their  countenances,  had 
sallied  out  from  the  ladies'  saloon.  He  stopped  not  to 
answer  any  questions,  but  quickly  disappeared  with  some  of 
the  officers  of  the  boat. 

As  Luther,  thanks  to  his  restlessness  and  perturbed  dreams, 
was  in  a  more  presentable  garb,  he  was  arrested  in  front  of 
the  ladies'  saloon  by  the  anxious  crowd,  and  closely  questioned, 
particularly  by  several  elderly  females,  as  to  the  nature  and 
cause  of  the  accident.  He  explained  that  he  was  only  a  pas 
senger  and  had  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  management  of 
the  sloop.  His  testimony  as  to  the  fact  of  there  having  been 
no  light  on  the  sloop  at  the  time  of  the  collision  seemed  to 
give  great  satisfaction  to  the  captain  of  the  steamboat,  who 
made  Luther  formally  repeat  the  assertion  in  presence  of  the 
crowd. 

"Your  name  is  Luther  Lansdale,"  he  said,  making  a 
memorandum  in  his  pocket-book.  "And  where  are  you  to 
to  be  found,  if  I  or  my  owners  should  want  to  see  you  in 
relation  to  this  matter  ? " 

Luther  hesitated  for  a  moment,  partly  from  a  vague  appre 
hension  of  being  dragged  into  court,  and  that  too  in  some 
way  to  the  detriment  of  his  friend  Captain  Combings,  and 
partly  from  a  sense  of  shame  at  being  unable  to  give  any  very 


62  NEVER   AGAIN. 

precise  answer.  To  the  question  of  the  captain,  he  was  however 
compelled  to  reply  that  he  had  no  address,  that  he  was  going 
down  to  New  York,  but  that  he  had  not  the  least  idea  where 
he  should  stay,  or  what  he  should  do,  and  that  he  had  been 
utterly  unable  to  make  up  his  mind  as  to  what  occupation  or 
employment  he  should  seek  or  accept.  As  he  made  the  con 
fession  the  two  antagonistic  poles  of  the  real  and  the  ideal 
met  him  here  for  the  first  time,  and  the  tension  of  his  over 
charged  fancy  was  reduced  by  the  shock.  A  sense  of  incon 
gruity,  a  conviction  of  the  monstrous  preposterousness  of  his 
expectations,  flashed  upon  him,  and  his  voice  faltered. 

"  Have  you  no  friends  in  New  York  ?"  said  a  low,  soft  voice 
just  behind  him. 

There  was  something  in  the  tone  inappreciable  by  the 
grosser  sense  of  hearing — something  that  seemed  to  enter  the 
portals  of  the  ear,  decline  the  ordinary  route  of  the  auditory 
nerve  to  the  brain,  and  descend  by  the  shortest  possible  cut 
to  the  heart.  Luther  turned,  and  beheld  the  very  face  which 
he  had  seen  a  thousand  times  before.  He  had  seen  it  in  the 
clouds,  he  had  seen  it  in  the  glassy  water  of  his  mountain 
lake.  He  had  seen  it  peeping  out  at  him  from  the  rustling 
foliage  of  the  trees,  from  beneath  the  waving  grass,  and  the 
bending  corn.  He  had  seen  it  amid  the  glowing  coals,  the 
volleying  smoke,  the  flickering  lights  and  shadows  of  the 
kitchen  fire.  It  had  often  smiled  at  him  from  the  pages  of  a 
book,  and  had  even  winked  lovingly  and  knowingly  from 
the  depths  profound  of  his  old  scratched  and  frameless  school 
slate.  At  least  if  it  was  not  the  very  same  face,  it  was  one 
so  very  much  like  it  that  it  made  Luther  start.  It  was  the 
bright  face  of  a  young  girl,  of  perhaps  sixteen.  Oval  in 
shape,  with  fine  delicate  features,  and  a  pale  but  pure  com 
plexion,  it  was  a  thoroughly  American  face,  and  yet  with  :i 
slight  fulness  and  roundness  of  line  that  suggested  Italy,  and 
indicated  a  capacity  of  passion  and  feeling  deeper  than  gen 
erally  belongs  to  the  common  American  type. 

Her  eyes  were  dark  gray,  and  had  Luther  been  less  em 
barrassed,  and  the  lights  better,  and  her  ringlets  not  in  curl 


NEVER  AGAIN.  63 

papers,  he  might  have  observed  that  her  hair  was  a  dark 
auburn.  A  large  blanket  shawl  was  thrown  over  her  head 
and  confined  around  her  throat  by  one  white  hand,  while  the 
other  rested  on  the  arm  of  a  tall,  elderly  gentleman,  who,  in 
his  hurry  and  fright,  had  neglected  to  assume  any  garments, 
except  his  waistcoat  and  pantaloons. 

"  Have  you  no  friends  in  New  York  ? "  she  again  inquired, 
seeing  that  Luther  hesitated. 

"  Not  one,  Miss,"  replied  Luther,  bowing  and  blushing ; 
"  not  even  an  acquaintance  that  I  know  of." 

"  Indeed  !  "  and  the  young  girl  turned  to  her  father. 

"  Oh,  father,  how  will  he  get  along? — what  can  he  do?" 

"  I  intend  to  do  as  others  have  done,"  returned  Luther,  in 
quite  a  withering  and  sarcastic  tone.  "  I  intend  to  make  a 
fortune !  " 

"  And  not  a  friend  ? — not  even  an  acquaintance  ? "  she 
exclaimed  in  a  pitying  voice  and  looking  up  appealingly  in  her 
father's  face.  "  Poor  boy  !  " 

There  was  something  in  her  voice  and  words  that  sent  a 
thrill  of  pleasure  through  Luther,  but  there  was  also  some 
thing  which  jangled  harshly  amid  the  sensitive  chords  of  his 
complex  nature.  He,  the  lord  of  unbounded  possessions, 
with  a  magnificent  castle  in  every  country  under  heaven,  to 
be  pitied  by  a  stranger — a  girl  j'ounger  than  himself,  because 
nobody  in  one  single  city,  and  that  not  the  largest  in  the 
world,  had  the  honor  and  pleasure  of  knowing  him  !  And 
the  "  poor  boy  "  too  !  Why  it  was  worse  and  more  contemp 
tuous  than  Miss  Doolittle's  "boy"  of  the  orthographical 
blunder ;  and  besides,  Miss  Doolittle  was  an  old  woman  and 
not  at  all  a  stylish  woman,  and  utterly  without  what  Luther's 
uninstructed  instinct  recognized  at  once  as  evidences  of  social 
position. 

"  Not  a  friend,  Miss  !  "  he  replied,  drawing  himself  up  as 
stiffly  as  possible,  "  but  I  presume  I  shall  have  when — when, 
that  is — after  I  find  the  fortune  which  I  am  going  to  seek. 
Wealth,"  continued  Luther  in  a  tone  which  was  meant  to  be 
particularly  sarcastic,  and  which  could  not  have  been  more 


64  NEVER  AGAIN. 

haughty  had  he  been  master  of  the  Indies, — "  wealth  never 
wants  friends  in  New  York,  I  believe." 

The  young  girl  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  with  a  puz 
zled  expression.  Luther's  countenance  fell ;  a  sense  of  shame 
at  his  rudeness  brought  the  blood  to  his  cheeks  ;  a  conviction 
of  the  absurdity  of  his  speech,  of  its  inartistic  inappropriate- 
ness  and  incongruity  sent  it  back  to  his  heart  in  a  suffocating 
tide  of  contending  emotion.  How  silly  to  be  offended  at  her 
pitying  exclamation,  or  even  at  her  expression  "  poor  boy." 
He  was  a  poor  boy,  a  stupid,  mean-spirited,  miserable  boy ! 
And  how  did  he  know  that  she  was  rich,  or  that  she  unduly 
prided  herself  upon  wealth,  or  that  she  was  one  of  those  city 
folks  whom  he  had  heard  often  derided  as  "  stuck  up."  Bah  ! 
what  a  fool !  what  an  ass !  what  a  ridiculous  blockhead  he 
must  appear  in  her  eyes,  and  in  the  eyes  of  all  who  were 
looking  on ! 

The  features  of  the  young  girl  relaxed  into  a  smile.  Per 
haps  if  her  heart  had  not  been  so  full  of  pity — and  maybe, 
too,  that  if  Luther,  with  his  damp  hair  curling  in  thick  waves 
around  his  brown  and  ruddy  face,  and  his  eyes  glowing  with 
his  rapidly-sweeping  and  contrary  emotions,  had  not  been  so 
good  looking, — she  would  have  laughed  outright.  "  I  meant 
no  offence  by  the  expression,"  she  replied.  "  Papa  will  tell 
you  that  it  is  no  reproach  to  be  without  friends,  or  even  ac 
quaintances  in  a  city  that  one  has  never  visited.  I  don't  know 
much  about  it,  but  I  believe  they  are  very  necessary  to  help 
one  to  look  after  a  fortune." 

And  the  young  girl  emphasized  the  word  fortune  with  a 
slightly  sarcastic  smile,  but  as  if  anxious  to  atone  by  some 
act  of  real  kindness  for  anything  that  might  wound  feelings 
so  sensitive  or  offend  an  egotism  so  marked,  she  suddenly 
turned  to  her  father :  "  Perhaps  you  can  do  something,  papa, 
towards  putting  him  in  the  way  to  wealth  ;  you  want  a  boy — 
a  young  gentleman  I  mean — in  your  counting-room,  don't 
you  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  my  dear,"  replied  the  gentleman  ;  "he  seems 
to  be  in  no  need  of  any  assistance,  and  least  of  all,  yours. 


NEVER   AGAIN.  65 

You  had  better  go  to  your  berth  now.  Come,  they  are  start 
ing  the  engine,  and  there  is  nothing  further  to  fear." 

It  was  evident,  more  from  his  tone  than  his  words,  that 
Luther  had  made  no  very  pleasant  impression  upon  him. 
This  however  would  not  have  disturbed  the  young  man  much, 
but  he  felt  really  sorry  that  he  assumed  such  a  rude  and  ridic 
ulous  air  towards  the  young  lady.  His  discomfiture  was  com 
plete,  when  she  partially  withdrew  her  arm  from  her  father's, 
and  leaning  back  towards  him,  whispered  in  a  tone  of  hearty 
and  unaffected  interest :  "  You  may  want  employment  some  time 
and  be  unable  to  find  it ;  many  young  men  are,  I  have  heard 
it  said,  in  that  condition  in  the  city.  If  so,  apply  to  Mr.  Led- 
geral,  of  the  firm  of  Ledgeral,  Shippen  &  Co.,  Burling  Slip. 
You  shall  have  my  influence  in  that  quarter,  and  little  as  you 
think  so  now,  it  may  be  of  use." 

With  a  smile  and  a  nod  of  the  head,  she  disappeared 
within  the  door  of  the  ladies'  saloon. 

"  Come  young  man,"  said  the  captain  of  the  steamboat, 
"you  had  better  go  into  the  boiler-room  and  dry  your  clothes, 
and  then  you  can  go  down  below  and  take  any  of  the  empty 
berths  ;  there  are  plenty  of  'em." 

Luther  declined  the  captain's  offer,  preferring,  as  the  night 
was  warm  and  he  had  no  desire  for  sleep,  to  stretch  himself 
upon  a  settee  on  deck.  He  had  enough  to  think  of — the  ac 
cident  to  the  sloop — his  narrow  escape — his  mother — Miss 
Doolittle  and  his  unlucky  blunder — and  last,  but  not  least, 
the  young  girl  who  had  spoken  to  him  with  so  much  kindness 
and  interest,  so  politely  and  so  pleasantly.  "  Miss  Ledgeral ! 
But  what  can  her  first  name  be  ?  Helen,  or  Mary,  or  perhaps 
Isabel  ?  No,  Isabel  is  Spanish,  and  of  course  a  brunette  ;  it 
may  be  Mary — Mary  always  has  blue  eyes.  Her  eyes  are 
gray.  No  matter,  I  shall  never  see  her  again ;  never  speak  to 
her  again.  Bah !  she  wouldn't  let  me  speak  to  her  again ; 
and  serve  me  right  too — such  a  dolt ! — such  an  idiot !  But 
I  never  will  apply  to  her  father — the  idea  is  preposterous.  I 
apply  to  such  a  purse-proud  old  fool?  Never!  I  wouldn't 
ask  the  slightest  favor  from  him — I  would  starve  first !  But 
5 


66  NEVER  AGAIN. 

why  should  I  feel  angry  with  her  simply  because  I  am  angry 
with  myself?  Come,  come,  Luther  Lansdale,  be  a  little  more 
generous,  or  rather  a  little  more  just.  She  meant  no  offence, 
and  you  were  a  stupid  jackass  to  take  any.  Well,  I  will  see 
her  once  more  when  she  leaves  the  boat,  and  thank  her  at 
least  for  her  kindness.  Not  that  I  will  ever  follow  her  direc 
tions  :  no,  never !  Old  Ledgeral  shall  never  see  my  face  again 
— that  is  not  until  I  am  rich:  then — well,  what  then?  Why 
then,  perhaps,  I  should  like  to  meet  his  handsome  daughter 
again.  How  handsome  she  is !  Miss  Doolittle — pooh  !  She 
is  ten  thousand  times  as  handsome  as  Miss  Doolittle ! " 

Thus  ran  Luther's  thoughts  until  the  boat  began  to  glide 
by  the  docks  and  houses  of  the  upper  part  of  the  city.  A  few 
purple  streaks  in  the  eastern  sky  announced  the  rapid  ap 
proach  of  morning,  lighting  up  the  numerous  spires  of  the 
churches,  and  the  long  blocks  of  red  brick  houses,  and  dis 
closing  deep  views  through  numberless  narrow  streets  into 
the  heart  of  that  most  mysterious  and  impressive  of  all  objects 
— a  slumbering  city.  One  by  one  the  passengers  emerged 
from  the  cabins,  laden  with  cloaks,  umbrellas  and  carpet  bags. 
Porters  appeared,  carrying  trunks  of  all  sizes  and  colors, 
followed  hither  and  thither  by  jealous  and  anxious  owners ; 
a  hugh  pile  of  luggage  arose  at  the  larboard  gangway ;  haw 
sers,  by  which  to  swing  the  boat  into  her  berth  and  secure 
her,  were  stretched  along  the  deck  ;  the  heaving-ropes,  care 
fully  coiled,  hung  ready  from  the  hands  of  the  mates. 

The  ladies'  saloon  had  poured  forth  a  crowd  of  its  inmates, 
but  still  Luther  could  not  get  a  glimpse  of  the  face  he  wanted 
to  see.  He  stationed  himself  so  as  to  command  a  view  of  the 
main  entrance  to  the  ladies'  cabin,  and  watched  and  waited 
until  at  last  he  began  to  be  afraid  that  she  had  passed  in  the 
crowd,  or  had  gone  ashore  by  some  short  cut  that  the  other 
passengers  knew  nothing  about,  or  that,  like  an  image-full 
mist  on  the  hillside,  or  a  floating  cloud  blushing  in  the  last 
rays  of  the  setting  sun,  or  a  sportive  shadow  on  the  surface  of 
his  mountain  lake,  or  a  lovely  shape  of  some  pleasant  and 
vivid  dream,  the  vision  of  the  night  had  in  reality  vanished 


NEVER  AGAIN.  67 

with  the  light,  or  had  perhaps  landed  during  the  night  in  a 
supersensuous  small  boat  rowed  by  phantoms  at  some  invisi 
ble  point  on  the  Hudson.  At  the  last  moment,  however,  his 
fears  were  dispelled.  As  the  crowd  were  beginning  to  ascend 
the  gang-way  plank,  she  emerged  from  the  saloon,  leaning  on 
the  arm  of 'her  father.  Luther  hesitated  a  moment,  but  see 
ing  the  attention  of  the  gentleman  was  mainly  occupied  in 
securing  a  safe  passage  with  her  through  the  throng,  he 
vigorously  thrust  himself  forward,  and  crossed  the  plank  by 
her  side.  He  bowed  and  blushed,  as  she  turned  to  his  whis 
pered  "  Good  morning,"  and  recognized  him. 

"  Good  morning,  Miss  Ledgeral.  I  want  to  say  that  I  am 
much  obliged  to  you  for  your  kind  words.  I — I — thank  you 
very  much,  that  is  as  much  as — as — as  if  I  needed  them — 
that  is  as  if — as  if" — 

"  Good  bye,  Mr.  Lansdale,"  replied  the  young  girl,  laying 
a  slight  emphasis  upon  the  Mr.  "  Recollect  the  firm,  Led 
geral,  Shippen  &  Co.,  or  perhaps  you  had  better,  if  you  want 
to  see  my  father,  come  to  our  house  in  Waverly  Place,  Wash 
ington  Square :  you  will  find  the  house  easily  enough.  Good 
bye ! " 

There  was  a  slight  smile  on  her  lips,  which  Luther  imag 
ined  to  be  contemptuous  and  sarcastic,  but  which  to  any  one 
less  morbidly  sensitive  would  have  seemed  merely  good- 
natured  and  sweet.  He  returned  her  salutation  somewhat 
coldly,  and  sprang  back  to  the  deck  of  the  boat.  "  I  apply 
to  her  father  for  assistance  of  any  kind  !  "  he  muttered.  "  I 
put  myself  in  her  way  again,  after  she  has  seen  me  in  this 
plight,  without  hat,  or  coat,  and  laughed  at  me  !  Never ! — 
never  !  I  hope  I  may  die  if  I  do  !  What  do  I  care  for  her  ? " 
he  continued,  as  he  ran  up  to  the  promenade  deck,  to  catch  a 
last  look  as  she  entered  a  carriage  in  waiting.  "  Nothing ! 
not  the  snap  of  my  finger,  not  the  flip  of  a  copper.  No,  I 
won't  think  of  her  again.  I  have  something  better  to  do 
than  that,  I  guess." 

Luther  returned  to  the  deck  where  he  found  Captain 
Combings  with  his  two  companions  in  conference  with  the 


68  NEVER   AGAIN. 

captain  of  the  steamboat,  who  announced  that  a  collection 
had  been  taken  up  among  the  passengers  and  crew  of  the 
steamer,  for  relief  of  their  immediate  necessities  as  to  clothing. 
Luther  was  at  first  inclined  to  refuse  his  portion,  but  his 
scruples  were  instantly  overborne  by  the  authority  of  quarter 
deck  opinion ;  and  besides,  an  instinctive  feeling  of  delicacy 
suggested  that  for  him  to  stand  out  alone  in  such  a  case  would 
be  a  reflection  upon  the  conduct  of  his  companions  who  had 
no  such  scruples,  and,  more  than  himself,  were  in  need  of  the 
money.  The  sum  amounted  to  nearly  two  hundred  dollars, 
which  at  Captain  Combings'  suggestion  the  captain  of  the 
steamboat  divided  equally  between  the  four  unfortunates. 
To  this,  Luther  objected  :  he  had  saved  his  shirt,  pantaloons 
and  vest,  and,  more  than  all,  his  eel-skin  pouch  with  its 
twenty-five  dollars,  while  his  companions  had  saved  nothing 
but  their  shirts,  and  were  indebted  to  the  kindness  of  some  of 
the  hands  of  the  boat  for  the  loan  of  clothes  in  which  to  go 
ashore  and  get  a  new  fit  out  of  their  own.  But  the  two  cap 
tains  insisted  upon  the  equity  of  an  equal  division,  so  that 
Luther  actually  was  a  gainer  by  the  accident ; — an  omen,  let 
us  hope,  of  Fortune's  favor  in  his  future  career. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

Advantages  of  Dress — Search  for  a  Boarding-House — A  Sailor's  Library 
— The  Captain's  Departure — An  Awful  Ordeal — Boarding-House 
Wit  —  A  Spiritualistic  Discussion  —  The  Solitude  of  a  City — A 
Present  to  Helen. 

c  T~\RESS,  Luther,  goes  a  great  ways  with  most  people," 
JLx  said  Captain  Combings,  as  they  stood  in  one  of  the 
common  slop-shops  in  Washington  Street.  "  It  is  with  them  just 
as  it  is  with  passengers  in  a  packet-ship — they  want  only  clean 
decks,  a  fresh  coat  of  paint  and  bright  brass  work;  they  never 
look  to  see  whether  the  rigging  is  chafed,  the  spars  strained, 
or  the  pump-bolts  worn  half  through.  Now,  looking  at  it  in 
that  aspect — and  by-the-bye,  Luther,  everything  in  this  life  has 
two  or  three  aspects,  and  some  things  half-a-dozen  or  more — 
looking  at  it  in  that  aspect,  I  say,  dress  is  a  regular  imposi 
tion  ;  in  fact,  a  downright  swindle,  the  same  as  paying  the 
seams  over  with  tar  before  you've  put  in  the  oakum.  But 
then,  when  you  bowse  in  the  bow-line  of  observation,  and  luff 
up  on  t'other  aspect,  dress  has  its  virtues.  It  looks  very 
much  like  faith,  as  described  by  St.  Paul,  which  is,  as  the 
apostle  has  it,  'the  evidence  of  things  not  seen.'  You  see, 
when  any  thing  or  person  is  well  dressed,  there  is  a  tendency 
— remarkably  weak  in  many  cases,  it  is  true — to  make  every 
thing  correspond.  A  ship  with  new  sails,  fresh  spars,  well 
scraped  and  slushed,  with  plenty  of  paint  and  holly  stones,  is 
not  so  apt  to  get  on  shore,  for  the  reason  that  there  will  be 
smarter  seamanship  on  that  craft ;  and  just  in  that  way,  more 
than  half-a-dozen  times  in  the  course  of  my  life,  I  have  been 
prevented  doing  or  saying  or  thinking  something  dreadful 
mean  by  a  clean  shirt  and  a  little  blacking  on  my  boots.  So 


7o  NEVER   AGAIN. 

you  see,  Luther,  you  want  a  smartish  dress,  for  two  reasons : 
first,  for  its  effect  upon  the  public,  and  next  for  its  effect  upon 
yourself.  These  things  are  common  slop-shop  affairs  ;  they 
will  do  very  well  for  Tom  and  Bill,  here,  and  even  for  myself. 
We  are  old  battered  craft,  with  no  rake  to  our  sticks,  and  the 
cut  of  our  jibs  is  of  no  consequence  ;  but  you  want  something 
with  a  little  more  style  in  it.  I  think  you  had  better  go  up 
into  the  town  and  order  a  dandy  rig,  square-cut  and  a-taunto." 

The  Captain's  proposition  chimed  in  perfectly  with  the 
suggestions  of  Luther's  vanity ;  so,  bidding  good-bye  to  Tom 
and  Bill,  who  for  a  quarter  of  their  share  of  the  collection  had 
obtained  a  complete  suit  of  serviceable  clothes,  he  set  out 
under  the  guidance  of  the  Captain  in  search  of  a  tailor  ol 
fashion.  The  Captain's  notions  on  the  subject  were  not  very 
exalted,  and  Hudson  Street  readily  supplied  an  artist  who 
pledged  his  word  of  honor  that  he  would  have  the  required 
suit  ready  in  three  days. 

From  the  tailor's  they  went  to  a  sailor's  boarding-house, 
where  the  Captain  was  to  remain  for  a  few  days,  and  where  it 
was  agreed  that  Luther  also  should  stay  until  his  new  clothes 
were  finished,  when  he  was  to  remove  to  a  more  genteel 
house,  in  a  more  fashionable  quarter  of  the  city. 

Captain  Combings  now  went  out  to  visit  his  business 
friends,  and  Luther  was  left  alone.  He  had  nothing  to  do 
but  to  wander  about  and  see  the  sights.  His  walks,  hc.vever, 
were  strictly  confined  to  the  wharves  and  by-streets.  He  had 
purchased  a  coarse  P-jacket,  which,  as  he  thought,  answered 
very  well  for  such  excursions,  but  which  would  never  do  for 
Broadway  and  the  more  central  parts  of  the  town.  Two  or 
three  times  he  stole  up  a  cross  street  until  he  could  see  the 
carriages  and  omnibuses  rushing  by,  and  hear  the  roar  of  the 
great  thoroughfare,  but  he  did  not  venture  nearer.  He  felt 
that  it  would  be  almost  impolite  to  expose  his  P-jacket  to 
the  gaze  of  such  a  noted  and  fashionable  street.  All  eyes 
would  of  course  be  directed  upon  him,  and  out  of  the  thous 
ands  whom  he  would  meet,  not  one  would  know  that  he  had 
a  beautiful  new  suit  in  the  hands  of  the  tailor.  His  curiosity 


NEVER  AGAIN.  7! 

was  strong,  but  so  was  his  vanity,  and  Luther  resisted  the 
temptation  to  explore  the  magnificent  mysteries  upon  which 
his  imagination  had  so  long  dwelt. 

With  a  punctuality  unusual  in  tailordom  the  clothes  were 
finished.  Luckily  for  Luther,  Captain  Combings  was  a  sharp 
hand  at  a  bargain,  and  half-a-dozen  new  shirts,  as  many  pairs 
of  stockings,  a  new  hat,  new  boots,  and  a  good  second-hand 
valise,  did  not  quite  exhaust  his  portion  of  the  collection  taken 
up  on  board  the  steamboat. 

Luther  was  soon  dressed,  and  after  as  close  an  examina 
tion  of  himself  as  possible  in  the  little  broken  bit  of  looking- 
glass  that  adorned  his>  mantel-piece,  he  sallied  out,  accompa 
nied  by  the  Captain,  in  search  of  a  new  boarding-house. 
They  paused  before  several  doors.  If  the  Captain's  longitude 
when  on  nearing  land  had  depended  upon  the  accuracy  with 
which  he  examined  each  house,  his  observations  could  not 
have  been  conducted  with  more  apparent  care.  First  he  de 
voted  five  minutes  to  a  deliberate  squint  upwards  from  the 
opposite  side  of  the  way,  as  if  he  was  especially  desirous  of 
taking  the  altitude  of  the  cornice  and  chimney-tops.  Next,  he 
crossed  the  street,  and  as  deliberately  investigated  the  pro 
fundities  of  the  area,  leaning  over  the  railing  and  sniffing  up 
the  air,  as  if  smelling  for  bilge-water. 

"  But  tell  me,  Captain,"  demanded  Luther,  "  how  can  we 
know  positively  which  house  is  a  boarding-house  ? " 

"  Know  'em ! — don't  you  know  you  can  tell  a  Frenchman 
from  a  John  Bull  without  hearing  his  hail  or  seeing  his  hull  ? 
Well,  how  do  you  suppose  it  is  done  ?  Why,  by  something  in 
the  set  of  the  sails,  or  the  trim  of  the  spars — something  that 
perhaps  you  can't  point  out,  but  there  it  is, — &je  ne  sais  qtwi, 
as  the  French  call  it.  It  is  just  so  with  a.  boarding-house 
but,  besides  that,  there  is  another  and  an  infallible  way  of 
telling  'em,  and  that  is  by  the  nose." 

"  By  the  nose  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  by  the  nose  one  knows  'em.  There  is,  in  nine 
cases  out  of  ten,  about  an  American  boarding-house  an  odor 
of  boiled  coffee  and  fried  beefsteaks.  Mind,  I  don't  say  that 


7 2  NEVER  AGAIN. 

they  always  do  boil  their  coffee  and  fry  their  beefsteaks,  but 
there  is  a  smell  of  it,  and  that  smell  is  just  as  good  a  guide  as 
the  smell  of  fried  onions  in  Malaga,  or  boiled  cabbage  in 
Hamburg.  And  more  than  that,  there  are  other  signs.  Do 
you  see  the  grease  and  dirt  round  the  lock  of  that  door  ? 
Well,  there  are  night-keys  used  in  that  house,  and  I  guess 
that  some  of  them  don't  get  into  that  key-hole  without  a  good- 
deal  of  fumbling.  It  is  rather  a  nice-looking  house.  Suppose 
that  we  try  it?  And  Bleecker  Street  is  a  nice  street,  too. 
Not  now,  perhaps,  of  the  highest  brand  in  the  fashionable 
world,  but  good,  respectable  second  chop  ;  a  No.  2  from  fair 
to  middling ;  by  that  I  mean,  Luther,  there  are  worse  streets 
in  New  York  than  Bleecker  Street." 

They  rang  the  bell,  and  after  due  delay  the  door  was 
opened  by  a  red-headed  female  Celt,  with  a  dirty  dusting- 
cloth  in  her  hand.  A  rustling  of  skirts  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs,  and  the  sudden  withdrawal  of  a  white  cap  and  pink 
ribbons  over  the  upper  rail,  indicated  that  Miss  De  Belvoir 
Jones,  the  landlady,  was  occupying  her  customary  coigne  of 
vantage,  whence  she  could  descend  in  an  overwhelming  aval 
anche  of  inflated  petticoats,  or  retreating,  disappear  in  the 
dim  and  nebulous  recesses  of  "  not-at-home." 

Having  satisfied  herself  by  eye  and  ear  that  the  avalanche 
was  the  safe  thing,  Miss  De  Belvoir  Jones  came  down  upon 
the  Captain  and  his  companion  in  a  perfect  foam  of  silk  lace 
and  scolloped  under-skirts.  The  Captain  doffed  his  hat  and 
bowed  in  the  style  of  a  merchant-trader  striking  topsails  to  a 
line-of-battle-ship.  A  smile  of  undisguised  admiration  at  the 
round  pleasant  face,  and  the  plump  overdressed  figure  of 
Miss  De  Belvoir  Jones  illumined  his  honest  countenance. 
"Hang  me,"  he  whispered  to  Luther,  "if  she  doesn't  remind 
me  of  old  Ironsides  at  Rio,  when  she  hung  out  all  her  signal 
flags  for  the  Emperor  of  Brazil." 

"  You  say  that  your  house  is  quite  quiet  ? "  demanded  the 
Captain. 

ft  Oh,  perfectly  quiet,"  replied  Miss  Jones  ;  "  we  have 
never  no  noise  in  the  neighborhood,  unless  it  may  be  some- 


NEVER   AGAIN.  73 

times  when  they  get  drunk  and  fight  in  a  tenement  house  in  the 
rear;  but  then  we  don't  mind  that  much." 

"  Get  used  to  it,  eh  ?  Well,  there  is  not  much  harm  in  a 
row  when  you  are  not  called  upon  to  join  in.  How  about  the 
cats,  Madam  ? "  continued  the  Captain. 

"Cats,  sir!" 

"  Yes,  and  the  rats  ? " 

"  Rats,  sir ! " 

"  Yes,  but  we  wont  inquire  about  any  of  the  smaller  ver 
min.  Those,  Luther,  are  among  the  little  evils  of  life  that, 
as  Montaigne  says,  one  ought  always  to  take  for  granted,  and 
then  you  will  never  be  disappointed.  And  your  boarders, 
Madam,"  continued  the  Captain,  turning  to  the  lady;  "they 
are  all  respectable  people  ? " 

"  Respectable  people  !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Jones,  the  color 
mounting  to  her  face. 

The  Captain  hastened  to  correct  himself.  "  Oh  no,  not 
respectable  people,  not  at  all  respectable,  but  genteel — genteel 
people,  I  mean. " 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  replied  Miss  Jones,  in  a  modified  tone  ; 
"  all  my  boarders  are  remarkably  genteel — nice  people,  all  of 
the  Upper  Ten,  sir,: — in  fact  I  take  none  but  the  nicest  sort  of 
people.  My  first  floor  front  is  occupied  by  Mr.  Stichen — 
the  rich  Mr.  Stichen  and  wife,  of  the  firm  of  Stichen  & 
Hoyt,  dealers  in  linens — manufactured  linens." 

"  Shirts  !  "  ejaculated  the  Captain,  nodding  his  head. 

"  And  my  first  floor  back,"  continued  Miss  Jones,  without 
replying  to  the  Captain's  coarse  interpretation  of  her  delicate 
euphuism,  "  is  occupied  by  a  distinguished  literary  man — J. 
Augustus  Whoppers,  author  of  the  '  Song  of  the  Spheres,'  and 
editor  of  the  New  York  Weekly  Universe.  You  must  have 
heard  of  him." 

''Is  he  a  hairy  man  ?  "  demanded  the  Captain. 

"Hairy?"  exclaimed  Miss  Jones. 

"  Yes  mam,  about  the  face ;  because  I  once  knew  a  fellow 
called  Jack  Whoppers;  he  wrote  a  song  called  'Seven  long 
years  I  courted  a  widow.'  He  made  a  voyage  once  with  me 


74 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


in  the  bark  Kangaroo,  and  I  can  assure  you,  Miss  Jones,  that 
his  whiskers  were  whoppers  :  they  did  justice  to  his  name.  I  did 
hear  that  he  had  quit  the  sea  and  hired  himself  out  to  Bar- 
num  to  play  the  bearded  Baboon  from  the  Bango  Islands." 

Miss  Jones  was  puzzled.  She  could  not  tell  whether  to 
feel  affronted  or  not.  The  speaker's  look  of  profound  admir 
ation  she  could  not  mistake.  She  felt  the  compliment  all 
through  her  stout  little  body  ;  but  then  such  talk  !  What  to 
make  of  it  ?  It  might,  however,  be  the  way  of  the  sea,  and  all 
in  earnest,  but  really  at  first  it  sounded  very  much  like  chaff. 
Her  loquacity  had  received  a  check,  however,  and  she  had 
nothing  more  to  say  of  her  boarders. 

A  bargain  was  finally  concluded,  by  which  Luther  was  to 
have  a  bed  in  a  little  narrow  attic  room  for  four  dollars  and  a 
half  a  week.  The  Captain  having  decided  to  go  up  the  river 
that  afternoon,  Luther  had  but  just  time,  before  accompanying 
him  to  the  boat,  to  write  a  letter,  which  his  friend  promised  to 
deliver  in  person  if  he  could  possibly  find  the  time  to  ride  out 
to  the  Lake. 

On  their  way  to  the  boat  the  Captain  improved  the  oppor 
tunity  to  impress  his  youthful  companion  with  a  due  sense  of 
the  dangers  of  city  life,  and  of  the  necessity  of  a  constant 
watch  over  himself,  if  he  wished  to  escape  the  many  tempta 
tions  to  which  he  would  be  exposed.  "Above  all  things," 
said  Captain  Combings,  "  find  something  to  do  at  once. 
Work  !  Luther,  work !  You  may  depend  upon  it  there  is 
nothing  like  work  ;  nothing  like  it,  not  only  for  the  good  that  it 
does,  but  for  the  evil  that  it  prevents.  There  is  nothing  that 
the  devil  hates  so  much  as  good  hard  work.  He  don't  so 
much  object  to  a  little  occasional  church-going  and  psalm- 
singing  ;  he  isn't  afraid  of  a  moderate  stock  of  good  principles  ; 
he  doesn't  object  to  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  ten  com 
mandments  ;  and  as  for  just  an  outside  lick  or  two  of  respect 
ability  and  gentility,  why  bless  you,  he  loves  it ;  but  he  has  a 
mortal  fear  of  honest  work.  He  knows  that  he  can  always 
find  '  some  wicked  thing  for  idle  hands  to  do.'  Now,  there 
must  be  many  people  in  such  a  city  as  this  who  would  like  to 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


75 


employ  such  a  good-looking  and  clever  young  fellow  as  you 
are.  If  we  could  have  stayed  together  on  the  old  sloop  for  a 
few  voyages,  I  should  have  had  time  to  look  around  and 
find  some  nice  place  for  you ;  but  now  you  must  do  it  for 
yourself.  I  hope  you  will  have  no  difficulty.  Look  at  the 
advertisements,  and  be  sure  to  answer  every  one  that  you 
think  will  do.  I  shall  see  you  soon  again,  and  if  nothing 
better  turns  up  you  can  take  a  trip  with  me  to  sea ; — that  is,  if 
I  can  get  a  command  again  from  my  old  owners." 

The  Captain  held  Luther  by  the  hand,  and  looked  kindly 
into  his  face.  The  young  man  could  but  half  restrain  a  sob, 
while  the  older  man's  little  gray  eyes  rolled  about  in  a  bath  of 
liquid  lustre,  which  only  needed  the  thousandth  part  of  a  drop 
more  from  the  fount  of  feeling  to  have  been  a  tear. 

"  Promise  me,  lad,  that  you  wont  run  on  any  of  the  shoals 
I  told  you  of.  Keep  a  good  sober  watch  at  the  cat-heads, 
with  a  strong  hand  on  the  tiller,  and  you  will  make  a  good 
land-fall,  I  have  no  doubt.  Come,  cheer  up  ;  cheer  up :  you 
mustn't  let  your  craft  get  down  by  the  head,  and  run  under. 
If  you  find  yourself  getting  into  that  trim,  just  overhaul  and 
re-stow  your  ideas,  and  remember  that  Captain  Combings 
expects  to  see  you  in  a  few  weeks  bowling  along  on  an  even 
keel,  under  easy  canvas,  and  that  it  will  just  about  kill  him  to 
find  such  a  likely  craft  pitching  and  rolling  and  straining  hull 
and  spars  under  trysail,  royals  and  flying-jib." 

The  speaker  jumped  aboard  as  the  gangway  plank  was 
pulled  in.  The  boat  started  ;  he  waved  his  hand  and  smiled, 
but  it  was  with  a  heavy  heart.  He  was  sorry  to  part  with 
Luther,  but,  besides  that,  he  had  other  causes  of  sadness ! 
First  and  foremost,  he  himself  was  now  nearly  penniless.  He 
had  no  insurance  upon  his  sloop,  and  there  were  no  hopes  of 
receiving  anything  from  the  owners  of  the  steamboat  which  had 
caused  the  loss.  To  support  himself,  and  an  aged  mother  and 
a  widowed  sister,  who  were  almost  wholly  dependent  upon  him, 
he  saw  that  his  only  resource  was  the  sea.  But  even  in  such 
employment  he  had  good  reason  to  suppose  that,  without  the 
means  of  purchasing  a  share  in  a  ship,  he  would  find  it  impos- 


7 6  NEVER  AGAIN. 

sible  to  obtain  a  command,  and  that  he  would  have  to  accept 
a  subordinate  post  on  some  miserable  craft.  He  was  not  one, 
however,  to  suffer  from  an  undue  depression  of  spirits.  His 
was  naturally  a  sound,  healthy  temperament ;  and  the  cir 
cumstances  of  his  life — his  early  experience  of  hard  work  and 
hard  fare — his  struggles  on  the  world  of  waters,  both  with 
the  fierce  moral  elements  that  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships, 
and  with  the  still  fiercer  natural  elements  which  so  often  pre 
vent  their  return — his  varied  adventures  and  misadventures 
by  flood  and  field,  had  served  to  develop  in  him,  both  men 
tally  and  physically,  a  high  degree  of  manhood.  His  sensi 
bilities  were,  like  his  muscles,  round,  and  full,  and  strong — 
easily  excited  by  proper  and  proportionate  forces,  but  not 
convulsed  by  pin-scratches  and  flea-bites.  He  had,  moreover, 
a  good  stock  of  sound  philosophy,  which  he  had  mainly 
acquired  from  his  library  of  half-a-dozen  books  ;  not  a  grand 
collection,  but  then  it  must  be  recollected  that  among  them 
were  Shakespeare,  Montaigne,  and  Plutarch,  and  that  the 
Captain  had  spent  many  an  hour  of  ocean  solitude  over  them 
until  he  had  got  them,  almost  by  heart. 

Luther  lingered  on  the  wharf  until  the  steamboat  had 
passed  out  of  sight.  The  sun  had  just  gone  down  behind  the 
heights  of  Bergen,  and  the  darkness  of  twilight  was  drawing 
over  the  scene ;  but  a  brighter  sun  had  just  set  in  Luther's 
mental  horizon,  and  a  deeper  darkness  was  drawing  over 
heart  and  brain — the  darkness  of  utter  loneliness  !  "  Never 
mind,  my  dear  boy  ;  your  experience  may  hardly  warrant  the 
conviction,  yet  it  is  nevertheless  true  that,  in  the  world  of 
sentiment  as  in  the  world  of  physics,  the  night  can't  last 
always — in  time  the  sun  will  rise  and  light  will  come." 


With  his  valise  in  hand  and  a  small  bundle  ot  odd  lug 
gage  under  his  arm,  Luther  bid  adieu  to  the  landlord  of  the 
sailor's  boarding-house,  and,  threading  the  back  streets,  sought 
his  new  home.  Making  his  way  up  to  his  little  dingy  room 
in  the  attic,  by  the  aid  of  a  lingering  ray  of  twilight  he  ar- 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


77 


ranged  his  effects,  smoothed  his  hair,  retied  his  cravat,  and 
otherwise  prepared  his  person  for  the  momentous  and  trying 
ordeal  of  the  tea-table. 

The  tea-bell  rang.  With  a  hesitating  step  and  a  fluttering 
heart,  he  descended  the  stairs. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  find  anything  in  the  history  of 
young  America  out  of  which  to  manufacture  a  comparison 
that  would  heighten  the  reader's  conception  of  the  tumult  of 
feeling  with  which  Luther  entered  the  room.  What  conceiv 
able  event  shall  we  select  ?  Is  it  a  presentation  to  the  Mayor 
of  the  great  city  of  New  York  ? — oh  most  modest  of  citizens ! 
Be  dad  !  Pat  Rooney,  only  three  weeks  from  the  bogs  of  Balli- 
nagora,  will  take  you  up  and  introduce  you  to  him  and  stir 
him  up  like  hot  porridge,  and  if  there  is  a  bashful  or  embar 
rassed  man  in  the  company  you  may  safely  bet  that  it  will  be 
the  Mayor  himself. 

Is  it  an  introduction  to  the  Governor  ?  I  think  I  see  you 
— oh  young  man  of  little  reverence  for  potentates  and  powers ! 
A  gracious  smile  on  your  placid  countenance,  a  subdued 
swagger  in  your  gait,  as  you  condescendingly  seize  and  shake 
his  Excellency's  hesitating  flipper. 

Is  it  a  step  higher  ? — would  you  visit  the  White  House  ? 
Ah !  there  is  Pat  Rooney's  cousin,  Tim  Doolan,  who  came 
over  this  time  two  years,  long  enough  to  become  an  American 
citizen  to  the  back  bone  and  a  member  of  Congress  to  boot 
— he  can  help  you,  he  can  put  you  on  easy  terms  at  once  ; 
ahd  besides,  as  Tim  says,  isn't  the  poor  devil  in  the  presi 
dential  chair  a  man  and  a  brother  ;  you  couldn't  ask  more 
nor  that  of  a  nigger,  let  alone  a  democratic  republican  and 
gintleman. 

No,  we  must  go  abroad  for  our  comparison,  to  Europe, 
and  above  all  to  England,  where  the  organ  of  reverence  is 
more  assiduously  cultivated,  and  where  a  more  rigid  tabooism 
gives  a  wonderful  exaltation  to  the  idols  of  snobdom.  "Will 
my  daughter,  when  presented,  have  a  good  opportunity  of 
seeing  her  Majesty?"  inquired  an  American  mother  of  her 
friend — a  lovely  and  accomplished  Marchioness,  who  had 


7 8  NEVER  AGAIN. 

kindly  consented  to  map  out  the  young  lady's  course  through 
the  rocks  and  shoals  of  court  etiquette  and  costume  into  the 
haven — heaven  we  might  say — of  royalty.  "  Oh  !  yes,  if  she 
dare,''  replied  the  lady,  dropping  her  voice  to  the  lowest 
contralto  of  reverential  awe,  and  with  a  dubitating  emphasis 
upon  the  word  dare — "  if  she  dare  raise  her  eyes  to  her 
Majesty,  she  may  see  her."  The  unabashed  girl  not  only 
raised  her  eyes,  and  very  lovely  eyes  too,  but  in  her  anxiety 
to  get  a  good  look  at  her  Majesty  she  forgot  one  of  the  pre 
scribed  courtesies  to  satellite  royalties,  whereupon  with  an 
aplomb  that  excited  the  wonder  of  some  old  courtiers,  she 
coolly  retraced  her  steps  and  deliberately  paid  the  proper 
compliment.  Now,  suppose  that  instead  of  an  irreverent  re 
publican  it  had  been  Lady  Grace,  or  Lady  Blanche.  Ah  ! 
now  we  begin  to  get  within  sight  of  a  comparison.  A  lovely, 
well-trained  English  girl  of  rank,  on  her  first  presentation  at 
Court — determined  to  go  through  with  it ;  yet  trembling,  awe 
struck,  not  "daring  to  raise  her  eyes  to  Majesty  :  "  there  we 
have  it !  the  exact  counterpart  in  feeling  to  Luther,  as  he 
entered  the  dingy-looking,  greasy-smelling  dining-room,  fur 
nished  with  a  grim  horse-hair  sofa,  and  a  long,  black  mahogany 
table,  around  which  were  seated  half-a-dozen  women  in  divers 
stages  of  age  and  ugliness.  A  slight  relief,  however,  to  the 
dismal  scene  was  given  by  a  glimpse  through  the  folding 
doors  of  a  stout,  rather  dumpy,  but  neatly-dressed  and  pleasant 
looking  woman,  who,  seated  at  an  open  piano,  and  carelessly 
touching  the  keys,  was  humming  in  the  undertones  of  a  rich 
contralto  voice  occasional  bars  of  music  made  famous  by 
Alboni. 

"I  wish  Mrs.  Stichen  would  give  us  'Jim  along  Josey,'  or 
'  Who's  dat  knocking  at  de  door,'  "  said  one  of  the  ladies  at 
the  tea-table  ;  "  I  can't  bear  those  stupid  Italian  tunes." 

"Oh,  Miss  Billings,  how  can  you  say  so  ?  I  think  Italian 
tunes  are  lovely.  I  enjoy  the  opera  so  much,"  exclaimed  her 
opposite  neighbor. 

"Well,  so  do  I,  when  they  are  sung  by  a  real  prima  donna  ; 
but,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Mrs.  Simmons,  I  don't  like  the 


NEVER  AGAIN.  79 

woman,  she's  stuck  up,  don't  have  nothing  to  say  to  nobody, 
and  sings  and  reads  poetiy  all  the  day  long.  She's  got  some 
voice,  but  I  don't  like  her,  and  she  can't  sing  anything  to 
suit  me." 

A  boarding-house  tea  almost  immediately  succeeding  a 
hearty  dinner  has  seldom  any  great  attractions  for  the  male 
sex,  and  no  men  had  as  yet  arrived,  with  the  exception  of  Mr. 
Whoppers,  who  sauntered  in  with  an  abstracted  air,  holding 
in  his  hand  several  strips  of  printed  matter  intended  for  the 
columns  of  the  New  York  Universe.  A  short,  pale-faced  man 
was  Mr.  Whoppers,  with  sandy  hair,  and  an  enormous  strag 
gling  mustache,  which  he  occasionally  stroked  and  pulled  with 
his  left  hand,  while  with  his  right  he  made  divers  marks  with  a 
red  chalk  crayon  on  the  strips  of  paper  before  him.  His 
little  ferret  eyes  furtively  stealing  around  the  table,  notwith 
standing  his  apparent  preoccupation,  showed  him  ready  to 
pounce  upon  any  item  of  news  for  his  journal,  or  any  crumb 
of  admiration  for  himself. 

"  You  must  find  the  life  of  an  editor  very  laborious,  Mr. 
Whoppers?"  observed  Mrs.  Lasher,  a  lank  woman  of  dubious 
age,  cavernous  gray  eyes,  neutral  tint  complexion,  and  of  a 
decidedly  spiritualistic  turn  of  mind. 

"Very:  behold  ^e.  proof  I"  replied  Mr.  Whoppers,  holding 
up  the  strips  of  paper. 

Mr.  Whoppers  was  really  a  man  of  sense  and  information, 
but  he  had  a  curious  yet  common  theory  of  wit,  that  not 
unfrequently  conveyed  an  erroneous  impression  of  his 
talents.  It  differed  greatly  from  the  oft-quoted  theory  of  Dr. 
Johnson.  Mr.  Whoppers'  idea  was  that  a  pun,  no  matter 
how  trite,  absurd,  or  misplaced,  was  the  highest  form  of  wit. 
and  that  if  he  had  really  set  himself  out  to  cultivate  the  an, 
he  could  have  made  himself  one  of  its  greatest  masters  ;  and  it 
is  by  no  means  clear  that  his  vanity  misled  him.  He  had 
some  fancy,  a  good  knowledge  of  words,  and  his  memory  was 
well  stocked  with  the  fag  ends  of  poetry  and  all  kinds  of  quo 
table  quips  and  quiddities,  and  it  is  well  known  that  in  no 
sort  of  mental  exercise  is  the  adage  "  practice  makes  perfect" 


8o  NEVER    AGAIN. 

more  applicable.  A  regular  punster,  which  we  are  far  from 
accusing  Mr.  Whoppers  of  being,  snaps  at  a  verbal  resem 
blance  as  a  trained  poodle  snaps  at  a  cracker  on  his  nose — 
with  similar  skill  and  with  equal  success.  There  would  be  no 
great  harm  in  him  if,  when  he  has  caught  one,  he  did  not 
invariably  rear  himself  up  and  paw  the  air  for  more. 

"  Ha  !  ha  ! — very  good  ! ''  exclaimed  Mr.  Stichen,  a  fat 
little  man  who  waddled  into  the  room  at  the  moment, — his 
round  black  eyes  twinkling  with  an  expression  of  good- 
humored  self-complacency  and  admiration  of  his  friend  Whop 
pers,  over  a  pair  of  cherry-red  cheeks,  half  concealed  by  the 
whitest  and  stiffest  of  shirt  collars.  "  Ha  !  ha  ! — very  good  ! 
Proof,  ladies  !  you  see,  proof!  Ha  !  ha  !  very  good  indeed  ; 
ha  !  ha  !  Whoppers,  you  are  a  wit — you  are  the  wittiest  man 
I  know  of,  without  excepting  Blithers,  of  our  club,  and  he 
stutters  out  sometimes  such  capital  things." 

"  Mr.  Stichen,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers,  eyeing  with  af 
fected  sternness  the  little  gentleman  as  he  dropped  into  his 
seat  at  the  table, — "  this  is  a  proof,  but  I  shall  have  to  give 
you  a  re-proof  if  you  flatter  me  so  grossly." 

"Ha !  ha  ! — he  !  he  ! — good  again  ;  proof,  reproof ;  ha  !  ha  ! 
very  good.  Why,  Mrs.  Lasher,  the  spirits  themselves  couldn't 
do  better  than  that." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  interrupted  Mr.  Whoppers  ;  "  the 
spirits,  if  they  are  good  for  anything,  would  readily  come  up 
to  fourth  proof." 

"  He  !  he  ! — ha  !  ha ! — good,  very  good,"  sputtered  the 
little  dealer  in  manufactured  linens,  with  his  mouth  full  of  hot 
tea,  a  drop  the  wrong  way  converting  the  spasm  of  admira 
tion  into  a  laryngeal  convulsion  that  had  to  be  coughed  out 
with  averted  head  into  the  depths  of  a  snowy  and  voluminous 
handkerchief. 

"  You  must  excuse  me,  ladies,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Stichen,  as 
he  recovered  his  breath ;  "but  between  Mr.  Whoppers'  wit  and 
a  drop" — 

"Oh  drop  that,"  interrupted  Mr.  \Vhoppers;  "we  all  take  a 
drop  too  much  sometimes,  but  it  is  not  best  to  say  anything 


NEVER  AGAIN.  8 1 

about  it  before  the  ladies ;  and  as  for  coughing,  you'll  have  a 
worse  fit  of  '  coffin'  than  that  before  long." 

This  last  witticism  did  not  seem  to  be  quite  so  palatable 
to  Mr.  Stichen,  so  that  between  suspended  breath  and  sus 
pended  admiration,  the  lone,  lank  woman  was  able  to  resume 
the  conversation. 

"  Mr.  Stichen  has  made  an  allusion  to  the  inhabitants  of 
the  spirit  world,"  said  Mrs.  Lasher,  in  a  tone  profoundly  in 
dicative  of  a  stern  belief  in  the  supernatural ;  "  I  would  ob 
serve  that  the  denizens  of  the  supernal  spheres  can  do  some 
thing  better  than  to  make  poor  puns." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Whoppers,  with  a  polite  nod  and 
a  vigorous  pull  at  his  mustache  ;  "  I  have  no  doubt  that  with 
their  advantages  and  in  their  position  they  ought  to  be  able, 
— they  ought  to  be  compelled — to  make  good  ones.  In  fact, 
I  have  no  doubt  that  all  dull  spirits  are  pun-ished  in  that 
way.  They  are*  required  to  make  puns,  and  I  think  that  if 
you,  Mrs.  Lasher,  will  ask  for  a  communication  on  that  sub 
ject,  especially  from  any  of  our  deceased  old-clothes-dealing 
brethren,  you  will  find  that  when  a  pun  ish  required  a  good 
pun  ish  ment." 

"  You  may  laugh,  Mr.  Whoppers,  or  rather,  Mr.  Stichen 
may  laugh  and  you  may  scoff,  but  if  you  had  attended  the 
session  last  evening,  you  must  have  been  convinced.  You 
could  not  have  resisted  the  evidence  of  the  immediate  pres 
ence  of  some  of  the  greatest  spirits." 

"  Fourth  proof  spirits,"  giggled  Mr.  Stichen,  in  a  desper 
ate  attempt  to  glitter  for  a  moment  in  a  reflected  flash  of  the 
great  luminary,  Mr.  Whoppers. 

"  You  must  have  been  convinced,"  continued  Mrs.  Lasher ; 
"  we  had  the  advantage  of  a  medium  who  can  communicate 
with  the  highest  spheres  :  we  had  communications  from  Wash 
ington  and  Franklin." 

"  Can  you  favor  us,  Mrs.  Lasher,  with  the  exact  words  of 
Washington  ?"  demanded  a  fat,  round-faced  man  with  a  white 
neck-cloth — the  Rev.  Dr.  Droney,  whose  talents,  sadly  over 
looked  in  the  distribution  of  clerical  calls,  had  found  a  fitting 
6 


8a  NEVER  AGAIN. 

field  in  the  half-constructed — heavily-mortgaged — church-beg 
ging  business.  "  Can  you  favor  us  with  his  exact  words  ? — I 
have  always  had  a  great  respect  for  Washington.  I  believe 
that  he  was  a  very  worthy,  good  man." 

"  I  can,"  replied  Mrs.  Lasher ;  "  it  was  partly  prose  and 
partly  poetry.  He  said :  '  My  experience  in  the  spirit  state 
convinces  me  more  and  more  of  the  value  of  the  Union.  Let 
no  demoniac  or  democratic,' — I  forget  now  which  it  was, 
democratic  or  demoniac,  but  I  think  it  was  demoniac, — '  let 
no  demoniac  hand  ruthlessly  tear  asunder  those  ties  cemented 
by  the  blood  of  the  heroes  and  patriots  of  '76. 

"  '  Let  your  proud  bird  forever  hold 
The  awful  tyrant-frightening  scroll : 
£ plttribus  Unum,  writ  so  bold, 
That  kings  may  read  from  pole  to  pole.' " 

"Very  fine,  very  fine  indeed,"  ejaculated  the  Doctor. 
"  Washington  was  unquestionably  a  lover  of  his  country,  and 
a  very  good,  worthy  man.  I  have  always  had  a  very  great 
respect  for  his  character.  In  fact,  our  country  has  hardly 
produced  a  man  whose  course  and  conduct  has  more  generally 
met  my  approval.  I  hope  you  admire  him,  sir,"  suddenly 
turning  to  Luther,  who,  in  obedience  to  an  indication  from 
Miss  Jones,  had  taken  a  vacant  chair  by  the  side  of  the  Doc 
tor.  "  It  is  particularly  incumbent  upon  all  young  men  to 
admire  him,  he  set  such  a  good  example  for  youth.  Never 
told  lies,  you  know,  and  owned  up  about  hacking  the  cherry 
tree,  and  all  that  you  know." 

Thus  directly  addressed,  Luther  felt  it  his  duty  to  say 
something  in  reply.  "  Yes  sir,"  he  stammered  out,  "  I  know 
that, — but — but " — and  Luther  hardly  knew  what  to  say — "  but 
I  did  not  know  that  Washington  was  a  poet." 

"  Ha  !  Very  true,  sir,  very  true,"  and  Dr.  Droney  looked 
with  an  air  of  stern  inquiry  towards  the  lone,  lank  expounder 
of  things  spiritual. 

"Not  in  this  world,"  replied  Mrs.  Lasher,  "but  in  the 
supernal  spheres  the  faculties  of  the  mind  receive  a  higher 
development.  Washington  could  not  write  such  poetry,  could 


NEVER   AGAIN.  83 

not,  perhaps,  write  poetry  at  all  when  living ;  but  now  he  could 
write  a  dozen  volumes  as  good  as  that." 

"Perhaps,"  exclaimed  Dr.  Droney,  his  fat  face  flushing 
with  the  glow  of  a  luminous  idea,  "  he  had  the  assistance  of 
Hamilton.  You  know  Hamilton  wrote  all  his  letters  and 
papers  in  this  life.  What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Whoppers  ?  you 
are  a  poet  yourself,  or  at  least  you  publish  a  good  deal  of 
poetry." 

Thus  directly  appealed  to,  Mr.  Whoppers  looked  up  from 
his  proofs.  "  Allow  me  to  correct  you,  Doctor, — a  deal  of 
good  poetry.  As  to  the  Hamiltonian  theory,  I  am  opposed 
to  it ;  and  besides,  Hamilton  was  not  a  poet.  If  Washington 
wrote  those  lines  he  must  have  had  the  assistance  of  a  pro 
fessed  poet — Shakespeare  perhaps,  or  Milton ;  they  sound 
Miltonious." 

"  But  what  about  Franklin  ? "  continued  Mr.  Whoppers, 
turning  to  Mrs.  Lasher.  "  As  a  member  of  the  editorial  fra 
ternity  I  am  more  interested  in  the  opinions  of  Franklin  than 
of  any  one  else.  I  hope  Franklin  did  not  belie  his  name — he 
opened  his  mind  frankly — eh  ? " 

"Oh,  that  is  what  I  wanted  to, tell  you,"  replied  Mrs. 
Lasher.  "It  has  always  seemed  to  me,  Mr.  Whoppers,  that 
you  have  never  taken  a  sufficiently  high  view  of  the  duties 
and  responsibilities  of  editorship.  Picking  up  items  of  every 
day  news  for  the  public,  and  writing  stories  and  tales  for  the 
vulgar,  is  a  desecration  and  a  degradation.  Hear  what  Frank 
lin  said  last  night.  He  said  :  '  If  there  is  anything  for  which 
I  regret  having  left  the  world,  it  is  the  enormous  journalistic 
development  which  has  since  taken  place.  The  newspaper 
is  destined  to  be  the  highest  main-spring  of  mundane  exist 
ence.'  What  do  you  think  of  that,  Mr.  Whoppers  ?  " 

"  Are  you  sure  that  he  said  the  '  highest  main-spring  of 
mundane  existence  ?'  "  demanded  Mr.  Whoppers,  cocking  his 
eye  at  Mr.  Stichen  in  a  way  that  set  the  little  gentleman  off 
into  a  premature  giggle. 

"  Certainly,  the  very  highest  main-spring." 

"  Well,  then,"  replied  Mr.  Whoppers,  "  I  can  only  say  that 


84  NEVER  AGAIN. 

I  think  the  old  gentleman  must  have  been,  in  the  main, 
decidedly  sprung  himself,  or  else  that  he  had  not  been  prop 
erly  wound  up  ; "  and  gathering  up  his  proofs,  Mr.  Whoppers, 
with  becoming  gravity,  but  not  without  a  sly  wink  to  Mr. 
Stichen,  bowed  himself  out  of  the  room. 

The  conversation  not  having  any  peculiar  interest  for 
Luther,  he  availed  himself  of  the  sensation  attending  Mr. 
Whoppers'  parting  mot  to  slip  away  from  the  table.  He  had 
been  so  long  accustomed  to  bowls  of  fresh  milk  and  bread,  or 
slices  of  fried  ham  with  eggs  for  his  supper,  that  a  cup  of 
wishy-washy  tea  and  a  thin  slice  of  bread  with  questionable 
butter  could  hardly  produce  any  great  elevation  of  spirits, 
and  so  to  escape  the  companionship  of  his  own  sad  thoughts, 
as  well  as  to  gratify  curiosity,  he  hurried  out  into  Broadway. 

The  lamps  were  just  lighted — the  street  was  filled  with  a 
throng  of  rapidly-moving  people — the  roar  of  wheels  almost 
deafened  him.  He  felt  excited  and  delighted,  and  yet  every 
now  and  then  there  came  over  him  such  a  feeling  of  loneli 
ness — to  be  one  of  such  a  crowd  and  yet  not  know  a  soul  in 
it — to  have  no  one  in  such  a  large  city  who  cared  for  him  or 
for  whom  he  cared  !  No  one  ?  Luther  pondered  the  ques 
tion,  and  the  'fair  face  of  the  young  girl  whom  he  had  seen 
on  the  steamboat  came  up  to  his  mental  vision.  Somehow, 
he  did  not  feel  so  lonely  when  he  thought  of  her.  Not  that 
he  really  cared  anything  about  her,  or  even  expected  to  see 
her  again.  Oh  !  no  ;  but  then  there  was  a  kind  of  com 
panionship  in  the  thought  of  her.  She  seemed  to  go  along 
with  him  and  to  loiter  with  him  at  the  shop  windows,  and 
everything  seemed  in  some  way  to  assume  an  interest  in  con 
nection  with  her.  There  was  a  richly-figured  pink  silk — how 
well  it  would  become  her!  There  was  a  beautiful  India 
shawl — how  gracefully  she  would  wear  it !  There  was  a  show 
case  full  of  common  bijouterie — not  a  single  article  costly 
enough  to  present  to  her  :  if  he  could  give  her  the  whole  ease 
ful,  that  perhaps  would  do.  But  for  a  present — here  in  this 
jeweller's  window  is  the  thing :  a  diamond  bracelet !  Luther 
wondered  whether  the  article  was  really  worthy  of  being  pre- 


NEVER  AGAIN.  85 

sented  to  her.  The  stones  could  not  be  paste,  they  were  too 
beautiful  and  brilliant.  He  thought  he  would  ask  the  price, 
and  judge  from  the  answer  whether  it  would  be  the  thing,  if 
lie  were  rich  and  going  to  make  her  a  present.  Cautiously 
pushing  open  the  door,  he,  in  a  very  modest  tone,  asked  a 
man  standing  behind  the  show-case  if  he  would  have  the 
goodness  to  tell  him  the  price  of  the  bracelet  in  the  window. 

"  A  thousand  dollars,"  replied  the  salesman,  after  eyeing 
Luther  a  moment.  "  Do  you  want  to  buy  it  ? — will  it  suit 
you?" 

"No,  sir  ;  but  I  thank  you  for  telling  me,"  replied  Luther 
humbly — feeling  that  the  man  had  a  just  claim  against  him 
for  damages  in  not  fulfilling  a  contract  to  purchase,  implied 
in  his  asking.  "No,  sir  ;  I  only  wanted  to  inquire  the  price." 

Little  did  the  jeweller  know  how  much  pleasure  his  an 
swer  had  given.  A  thousand  dollars !  Luther  was  delighted 
— he  had  been  afraid  that  the  answer  would  be  four  or  five 
hundred.  A  thousand  dollars !  It  was  then  pretty  enough 
and  costly  enough  to  present  to  her.  True,  he  had  no  expec 
tation  of  ever  seeing  her  again,  much  less  of  ever  making  her 
a  present  of  any  kind,  but  it  was  a  comfort  to  know  that  she 
was  in  the  same  city,  and  that  there  was  a  beautiful  diamond 
bracelet  ready  for  any  one  who  might  choose  to  give  it  to 
her.  Oh  Luther  !  you  fickle  young  villain,  was  there  nothing 
in  that  show-window  that  would  do  for  Miss  Deborah  Doolittle? 

Luther  went  home,  crept  under  the  low  slanting  roof,  into 
his  hard,  knobby,  corn-husk  bed,  and  dreamed  of  walking, 
with  his  pockets  stuffed  full  of  thousand-dollar  bank  notes, 
into  a  butcher's  shop,  where  hung  pieces  of  beef,  fresh  from 
Golconda,  all  studded  with  diamonds  as  large  as  lemons. 


CHAPTER    V. 

Seeking  Work — Letter  from  the  Captain — A  Dog-Fight  with  a  Moral — 
The  Hereof  Corunna — Futile  Efforts — A  New  Principle  in  Medicine 
— A  Warning  to  Young  Men  in  the  Country — Pride  Knocks  Under. 

LUTHER  had  now  to  set  himself  seriously  to  work  seek 
ing  some  employment, — not  so  pleasant  a  task  as  it  had 
seemed  when  viewed  from  a  distance.  He  had,  however,  no 
doubt  as  to  its  practicability,  and  under  that  delusion  he  wasted 
a  week  in  looking  about  the  city  and  trying  to  make  up  his 
mind  as  to  what  situation  he  would  be  willing  to  take.  The 
payment  however  of  his  first  week's  board  bill,  and  the  sud 
den  conviction  that  his  small  stock  of  money  would  not  last 
forever,  gave  a  fresh  impulse  to  his  determination.  He  looked 
over  the  newspapers  and  selected  the  advertisements  which 
he  thought  applied  to  a  case  like  his  own.  Some  he  answered 
by  letter,  others  required  a  reply  in  person.  Dressing  every 
morning  with  the  utmost  care  in  his  new  suit,  and  taking  his 
memorandum  of  the  address,  Luther  would  sally  forth  with 
the  firmest  resolve  to  have  an  interview  with  the  preferred  ad 
vertiser,  and  close  a  bargain  with  him  at  once.  But  somehow, 
as  he  walked,  his  resolution  began  to  give  way — a  thousand 
doubts  and  objections  arose  in  his  mind.  There  was  some 
thing  in  the  advertisement  that  he  did  not  like,  or  it  was  ques 
tionable,  on  second  thoughts,  whether  he  could  perform  the 
duties  required  of  him,  or  there  was  something  in  the  nature 
of  the  business  that  he  had  neglected  to  consider.  The  re 
sult  was  that  his  excursion  generally  ended  in  an  examination 
of  the  outside  of  the  office  or  warehouse,  and  a  return  to  his 
own  room,  where,  to  his  great  astonishment,  as  well  as  disap 
pointment,  he  never  could  find  an  answer  to  any  of  his  written 
communications. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  87 

A  second  board  bill  gave  a  new  fillip  to  his  resolution,  and 
he  made  up  his  mind  to  no  longer  delay  applying  for,  and  se 
curing,  some  situation.  His  first  application  threw  a  flood  of 
light  upon  matters,  in  relation  to  which  he  had  hitherto  been 
entirely  in  the  dark.  "We  are  in  no  want  of  any  one,"  was 
the  prompt  and  rather  rude  answer  to  his  inquiry. 

"I  saw  an  advertisement  in  the  Herald" — 

"  True,  but  that  was  two  days  since  ;  we  had  fifty  applica 
tions  the  first  day." 

Fifty  applications !  Astonishment  held  him  dumb  and 
motionless  for  a  moment,  and  then  a  sense  of  shame  sent  the 
color  to  his  cheek.  He  felt  ashamed  of  his  own  dilatoriness, 
and  ashamed,  more  than  all,  of  having  applied  for  a  place 
already  filled.  He  felt  as  guilty  as  if  he  had  been  caught  try 
ing  to  carry  off  some  of  the  bales  or  barrels  lying  around, 
and,  hastily  making  for  the  door,  he  rushed  into  the  street. 

The  ill  success  of  his  first  effort  deterred  him  from  making 
another  for  several  days.  Visions  of  a  seafaring  life  came 
over  him.  He  thought  of  the  ocean,  as  thousands  of  imagi 
native  minds  have  thought  and  will  think  of  it  upon  finding 
for  the  first  time  that  their  lofty  fabrics  of  fancy  have  no  solid 
foundation  upon  the  land. 

With  this  idea,  he  visited  all  the  shipping  in  port — strolled 
around  the  wharves,  and  spent  hours  in  the  various  ship-yards. 
This  was  great  waste  of  time,  but  it  was  certainly  better  than 
loitering  in  drinking-saloons,  or  hanging  around  ten-pin  alleys 
or  billiard-rooms.  He  also  made  a  regular  morning  visit  to 
Washington  Square,  and  an  evening  seldom  passed  without 
repeating  it.  He  could  not  sleep  comfortably  without  passing 
and  repassing  the  house  a  dozen  times,  occasionally  stopping 
to  listen  to  the  sounds  of  the  piano — to  watch  the  shadows 
flitting  by  on  the  closed  curtains,  and  now  and  then  creeping 
up  the  front  steps,  and  trying  to  peer  into  the  parlor  windows. 
Sometimes,  for  hours,  he  stood  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
street,  with  his  back  to  the  park  railing,  endeavoring,  in  imag 
ination,  to  penetrate  the  mysteries  of  those  illuminated  rooms. 
Perfectly  familiar  with  the  castles  of  feudal  and  fairy  land, 


88  NEVER  AGAIN. 

and  with  the  palaces  and  caravansaries  of  Bagdad  and  Bas- 
sorah,  Luther  was  utterly  ignorant  of  the  arrangements  and 
furniture  of  a  first-class  residence  in  New  York.  His  pran 
cing  fancy  consequently,  when  galloping  into  the  front  door  of 
that  particular  house,  lacked  the  curb  of  comparison,  or  even 
the  check-rein  of  probability.  His  idea  was  that  of  a  suite 
of  rooms  of  interminable  extent — ceiled  with  a  mosaic  of 
rubies,  emeralds,  and  sapphires  ;  hung  with  a  curious  com 
posite  of  crystal  mirrors,  gobelin  tapestry,  and  pictures  by 
Raphael ;  carpeted  with  the  fabrics  of  Persia,  half  a  foot 
thick,  and  filled  with  furniture  of  solid  gold.  Through  these 
rooms  flitted  continually  a  figure,  the  face  of  which  was  that 
of  Miss  Ledgeral,  as  she  appeared  that  night  on  the  steam 
boat,  but  all  the  rest  was  brocade,  diamonds,  and  little  glass 
slippers.  From  all  this  it  will  readily  be  seen  by  the  astute 
reader,  what  a  poor,  weak,  ignorant  youngster  we  have  here. 
He  would  hardly  do  for  the  hero  of  a  modern  novel.  True, 
he  has  some  book  knowledge  and  plenty  of  brains,  but  he  is 
so  ridiculously  lacking  in  savoir-faire.  Sometimes,  however, 
these  kind  of  fellows  have  a  wonderful  faculty  of*  learning 
rapidly.  Let  us  hope  that  he  will  have  a  little  common  sense 
and  knowledge  of  the  world  and  its  ways  knocked  into  him 
in  time. 

Again,  after  a  few  days  of  mortification  and  despondency, 
did  Luther  summon  up  a  resolution  to  answer  another  adver 
tisement,  but  there  was  something  in  his  appearance  that,  in 
the  absence  of  any  letters  of  recommendation,  induced  a 
prompt  refusal.  He  was  now  getting  somewhat  accustomed 
to  such  rebuffs,  and  his  spirit  began  to  rise.  The  combata- 
tive  instinct  so  essential  to  success  of  any  kind  began  to  stir 
within  him.  He  determined  to  obtain  a  situation  somehow 
by  sheer  persistence  and  pluck.  In  this  state  of  mind  he  felt 
strongly  supported  by  a  note  from  Captain  Combings,  to 
whom  he  had  written  an  account  of  his  failure  in  his  first  at 
tempt.  "  The  world,"  wrote  the  Captain,  "  is  very  much  like 
a  big  dog  I  once  knew  in  Corunna.  It  was  a  hot  summer's 
afternoon,  the  citizens — men,  women,  and  children — had  just 


NEVER  AGAIN.  89 

got  through  their  siestas,  and  were  beginning  to  show  them 
selves  on  their  balconies,  all  busy  rubbing  their  eyes  and  roll 
ing  cigarettes.  I  was  stretched  out  on  three  chairs,  in  the 
public  room  of  a  dirty  posada,  trying  to  smoke  one  of  the 
nasty  little  paper  things,  when  suddenly  there  was  a  terrible 
shouting.  I  rushed  to  the  window,  as  did  everybody  else  in 
town. 

"  '  El perro  !  El perro  i '  The  dog  of  all  dogs — the  most 
awful  dog  in  all  Spain — the  dog  that  had  killed  his  man  more 
than  once,  and  had  whipped  his  bull  more  than  a  dozen  times 
— had  broken  loose  !  It  was  cut-and-run  with  the  half-a-dozen 
long-legged  fellows  in  the  street,  and  there  was  a  terrible 
slamming  of  shop-doors  and  ground-floor  windows.  In  a 
moment  the  street  was  cleared  of  every  living  thing  except 
the  dog — a  monstrous  yellow  brute,  as  big  as  a  bull,  that  is, 
a  small-sized  bull ;  and  one  of  my  men — Bill  Stebbins  by 
name — a  little  chap  about  five  feet  high,  but  a  sailor  every 
inch  of  him.  I  saw  by  his  weather  roll  that  he  had  shipped  a 
little  botega,  and  hadn't  got  it  very  well  stowed,  but  with  all 
that,  he  was,  for  '  a  Jack-ashore,'  in  pretty  good  trim.  The 
people  on  the  balconies  shouted  to  him  to  fly — save  himself, 
or  the  dog  would  kill  him.  Bill  couldn't  understand  them ; 
he  continued  to  work  his  way  right  up  the  centre  of  the  street 
towards  the  dog.  When  he  came  within  reach  of  my  voice  I 
hailed  him  by  name,  and  told  him  to  look  sharp  or  the  dog 
would  be  upon  him.  '  Dog  ? '  he  cried,  looking  up,  and  see 
ing  the  animal  for  the  first  time.  '  Dog  ?  dog  be  damned  ;  is 
that  all  that  these  yellow-faced  lubbers  are  making  such  a 
fuss  about  ? '  At  that  moment  the  dog  got  sight  of  him,  and 
with  a  deep  growl  of  rage  rushed  to  the  attack.  Bill  grasped 
his  tarpauling  by  its  lining  with  his  left  hand,  and  threw  him 
self  into  a  regular  boxing  attitude.  The  dog  gave  a  dozen 
monstrous  jumps  down  the  street,  and  then  one  terrific  bound 
directly  at  his  throat.  A  shudder  of  excitement  fairly  shook 
the  crowded  balconies.  As  a  senorita  said  to  me  afterwards, 
'  it  was  delightful ;  we  all  expected  him  to  be  torn  instantly 
to  pieces  ;  it  was  better  than  a  bull-fight.'  As  the  dog  sprang 


90  NEVER   AGAIN. 

into  the  air,  Bill  received  him  with  his  tarpaulin  on  his  left 
hand,  and  at  the  same  instant  struck  him  an  upward  blow 
right  under  the  lower  jaw  that  knocked  him  completely  over 
on  to  his  back.  '  First  knock  down  for  me,'  shouted  Bill. 
'  Time,  you  lubber ! '  And  time  it  was  ;  for  the  dog,  recover 
ing  his  feet,  instantly  made  another  spring.  Again  the  tar 
paulin  was  thrust  at  his  mouth",  and  another  blow  right  under 
his  jaw  given  with  still  more  force,  turned  him  once  more 
over  on  to  his  back  with  his  big  paws  quivering  in  the  air. 
Before  he  could  recover  himself  Bill  rushed  at  him,  and  with 
his  foot  gave  him  a  heavy  stern-lifter.  '  There,  take  that,  you 
lubber,'  he  shouted;  'foul  is  fair  in  a  dog-fight.'  This  last 
indignity  was  too  much  for  Senor  Pero.  He  got  himself  on 
to  his  legs,  rushed  up  the  street  amid  the  shouting  and  hoot 
ing  of  the  people,  and  slunk  into  his  kennel.  I  guess  if  you 
had  asked  that  evening  the  name  of  the  hero  of  Corunna,  you 
couldn't  have  found  a  beggar  in  town  who  would  have  thought 
of  Sir  John  Moore.  Now  the  world,  Luther,  is  just  like  that 
big  yellow  dog.  If  you  stand  up  to  it  square  and  true,  strike 
out  strong  and  hearty,  knock  it  down,  and  especially  if  you 
can  contrive  to  give  it  a  good  kick  or  two  after  it  is  down,  it 
will  fetch  and  carry  for  you  like  a  trained  poodle ;  but  if  you 
get  frightened,  and  let  it  once  get  you  under,  you  may  be  sure 

it  will  worry  you." 

***** 

"  Where  there's  a  will  there's  a  way !  "  exclaimed  Luther. 
Alas  !  What  a  pity  that  so  many  proverbs  should  be  thorough 
hybrids — half  truth  and  half  falsehood.  The  adage,  how 
ever,  encouraged  him,  and  he  devoted  himself  in  earnest  to 
his  task.  Dry  goods  shops  and  groceries,  wholesale  and  re 
tail  jobbers,  shipping  merchants,  brokers  of  every  class,  with 
ship-chandlers  and  slop-shops — all  were  successively  applied 
to,  but  in  all  cases  he  was  either  too  late,  or  too  old,  or  too 
young,  or  too  something-or-other,  for  the  place. 

He  called  at  the  post-office  and  found  a  long  and  affec 
tionate  letter  from  his  mother.  She  had  heard  of  the  acci 
dent  on  the  river,  and  of  the  lucky  escape  of  the  crew  of  the 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


91 


sloop.  Her  own  health  was  worse,  and  John's  temper  and 
manner  more  surly  and  disagreeable  than  ever,  but  she  did 
not  care  for  anything,  she  said,  so  long  as  her  darling  Luther 
was  doing  well.  Captain  Combings  had,  according  to  his  prom 
ise,  paid  her  a  visit.  His  account  had  encouraged  her  hopes 
of  her  dear  boy's  ultimate  success,  and  she  congratulated  him 
upon  his  prospects,  which  she  had  great  confidence  had  already 
become  realities. 

Luther  could  not  answer  this  letter — he  could  not  tell  her 
of  the  miserable  failure  that  had  attended  all  his  efforts.  In 
fact  he  could  hardly  bear  to  read  it  the  second  time,  it  sounded 
so  much  like  mockery  of  his  crude  plans  and  foolish  hopes. 

His  money  was  all  gone,  and  there  was  a  week's  board 
due.  No  criminal  condemned  to  the  gallows  ever  endured  a 
week  of  greater  mental  torture.  He  could  not  eat,  not  alone 
because  he  had  no  appetite,  but  because  he  felt  that  every 
mouthful  was  a  theft — a  fraud  upon  his  confiding  landlady. 
He  could  not  sleep,  or  if  he  did,  it  was  to  dream  of  a  terrible 
hob-goblin  clothed  in  a  dress  of  dirty  bank-notes,  with  a  tail 
fashioned  like  that  of  a  kite  out  of  a  long  string  of  unpaid 
bills,  and  shaking  an  empty  purse  as  he  danced  upon  his  la 
boring  breast.  He  began  to  fall  off  in  flesh,  the  bloom  of 
high  health  was  beginning  to  fade  from  his  cheek. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Droney  eyed  him  suspiciously,  and  finally 
took  it  upon  himself  to  advise  him  not  to  be  led  into  tempta 
tion,  but  to  keep  the  example  of  that  good,  worthy  man, 
Washington,  ever  before  him.  "Look  at  Proverbs,  chap.  i. 
ver.  10,  young  man,  and  let  the  text  sink  into  your  heart." 

Mrs.  Lasher  advised  him  to  try  homoeopathy,  especially 
when  she  found,  upon  inquiry,  that  he  had  not  slept  much  for 
two  or  three  nights.  "  Caffein  is  the  thing — one  drop  in  a 
tumbler  of  water,  and  take  a  teaspoonful  every  half  hour.  It 
works  like  a  charm.  Why,  I  was  very  wakeful  the  other  night, 
and  I  had  to  take  nearly  a  whole  tumbler  full,  but  towards 
morning  it  put  me  into  such  a  sound  sleep  I  didn't  hear  the 
breakfast  bell." 

"  Ah,  but  I  have  the  remedy,"  interposed  Mr.  Stichen. 


92  NEVER   AGAIN. 

"  Some  nasty  allopathic  drug,  I  suppose,"  said  Mrs. 
Lasher. 

"  No,  mine  is  an  external  application,"  replied  Mr.Stichen. 

"  But  not  being  able  to  go  to  sleep  is  internal,"  retorted 
Mrs.  Lasher. 

"  Just  so,"  said  Mr.  Stichen,  "  that's  my  principle  exactly 
— all  internal  diseases  ought  to  be  treated  externally,  and  all 
external  diseases  internally." 

"  Well,  there  is  something  in  that,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Lasher; 
"  it  sounds  reasonable,  and  besides,  it  coincides  with  what 
Doctor  Quackenhummer  said  to  me  at  our  last  biological 
soiree.  You  don't  know  the  doctor,  do  you  ?  Well,  you  ought 
to  ;  he  is  so  lucid,  only  he  don't  speak  English  very  plainly. 
He  was  at  first  a  disciple  of  Hahnemann,  but  he  has  got  way 
beyond  his  master.  He  said  to  me :  '  Madame,  de  grand 
principe  of  dat  great  man,  similia  similibus,  is  von  of  de  finest 
tings  of  de  human  mind,  but  I  have  make  von  discovery  ten 
tousand  times  more  fine,  'tis  vat  I  call  de  vice-varsity  of  na 
ture.'  Now,  that  agrees  with  what  you  say  of  the  externality 
of  internalisms,  and  the  internalism  of  externalities.  Hut 
what  is  your  remedy  in  cases  when  the  cerebellum  evinces  a 
decided  repugnance  to  the  somnific  state  ? " 

"  Nothing  more  simple,  madam  ;  shirts  is  the  thing." 

"  Shirts  ! " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  shirts.  I  have  a  dozen  shirts  lying  by  my 
bedside.  W7hen  I  can't  sleep  I  hop  out  of  bed  and  change 
my  shirt ;  and  I  do  that  every  half  hour,  until  I  either  fall 
asleep  or  go  through  the  whole  dozen." 

"  Very  remarkable  and  original !  "  exclaimed  Dr.  Droney. 

"  Neither  one  nor  the  other,"  said  Mr.  Whoppers,  who  had 
just  entered  the  room.  "  Stichen  hops  out  of  bed  and  hops 
into  a  fresh  shirt :  now  it  is  neither  wonderful  or  new  that 
hops  should  produce  sleep." 

Despite  these  various  prescriptions,  Luther  grew  worse  ; 
an  explanation  could  not  be  long  delayed ;  it  was  a  relief 
when  it  came.  The  actual  is  seldom  so  distressing  or  so  diffi 
cult  to  bear  as  fancy  represents  it 


NEVER   AGAIN.  93 

His  good-natured  landlady  took  it  much  more  quietly  than 
he  had  expected.  She  had  become  used  to  such  things,  and 
this  was  only  one  week's  board,  besides  youth  and  good  looks 
counted  for  something  on  the  credit  side  in  the  books  of 
dressy,fussy,  but  tender-hearted  Miss  de  Belvoir  Jones. 

With  a  promise  to  pay  her  as  soon  as  he  could  get  the 
money,  he  took  his  carpet-bag  in  his  hand  and  walked  into 
the  street.  Penniless  ! — friendless  ! — homeless  ! — he  knew 
not  which  way  to  direct  his  steps.  Instinctively  he  turned  up 
into  Broadway,  and  stood  for  a  while  gazing  on  the  stream  of 
life  as  it  rolled  by.  And  what  more  striking  object  of  con 
templation  than  the  active,  bustling,  hustling  crowd  of  people 
thronging  the  great  thoroughfare  of  a  great  city?  — 

"  As  with  like  haste  to  several  ways  they  run, 
Some  to  undo,  and  some  to  be  undone." 

Abstract  yourself,  and  drop  for  a  moment  a  sense  of  your 
own  immediate  relations,  whatever  they  may  be,  to  the  crowd, 
— the  scene  is  funny  and  grotesque,  or  mean  and  pitiable,  or 
grand  and  solemn — one  or  all,  as  you  may  choose  to  view  it. 
What  a  grand  flux  and  reflux  of  life,  or  what  a  pitiful  whirl 
of  miserable  individualities — what  a  bubbling  and  seething 
of  divers  contemptible  interests  and  motives,  or  what  a  strik 
ing  display  of  excited  and  elevated  activities  !  and  from  all 
what  a  strong  conviction  arises  of  a  great  natural  law,  or 
laws,  in  obedience  to  which  the  apparently  independent  mem 
bers  of  the  confused  mass  move  and  halt,  and  talk,  and  ges 
ticulate  and  laugh  and  cry,  and  tumble  down  and  pick  them 
selves  up  again,  and  repeat,  over  and  over,  in  exactly  the 
same  proportion,  the  accidents,  the  motions,  the  looks,  the 
feelings  and  the  sentiments  of  yesterday  and  to-morrow. 

As  the  crowd  rolled  by,  many  directed  their  eyes  towards 
him — some  with  a  slight  expression  of  surprise  or  curiosity ; 
but  none  stopped  to  ask  him  a  question  or  to  offer  any  assist 
ance.  All  seemed  to  be  too  busy  or  too  happy  to  heed  him. 
A  feeling  of  bitterness  arose  in  his  heart,  but  his  better  judg 
ment  checked  it,  though  not  without  effort.  How  could  they 


94  NEVER   AGAIN. 

know  his  distress,  and  if  they  did,  were  there  not  other  objects 
better  deserving  their  compassion  ?  Besides,  how  did  he 
know  that  under  that  gay  exterior  there  were  not  hearts  ach 
ing  with  deeper  griefs  than  his  own  ? 

But  what  to  do  ? — which  way  to  turn  ? — where  to  go  ? 
Alas  !  how  many  young  men  have  been  in  a  similar  condition, 
and  without  Luther's  excuses?  Deluded  by  a  false  estimate 
of  city  life,  allured  from  perhaps  pleasant  homes  or  from  set 
tled  situations  in  the  country  by  ridiculous  notions  of  the 
ease  and  certainty  with  which  fortune  is  won  in  town,  they 
expect,  with  feeble  will,  small  capacity  for  work,  and  no  spec 
ial  talent,  to  succeed  in  a  struggle  which  taxes  the  energies  of 
the  best-endowed  for  merely  a  bare  existence.  And  how 
many,  too,  having  once  made  the  mistake,  instead  of  returning 
to  the  abundant  work  of  the  country,  hold  on  to  the  very 
verge 'of  despair,  supported  only  by 

— "  An  esperance  so  obstinately  strong 
That  doth  invert  the  attest  of  eyes  and  ears." 

Corrupted  and  enfeebled  by  the  baser  influences  of  city  life, 
they  surrender  energy  and  will  to 

— "  Hope,  the  fawning  traitor  of  the  mind 
Which,  while  it  cozzens  with  a  color'd  friendship, 
Robs  us  of  our  best  virtue — resolution." 

If,  however,  utterly  dissatisfied  with  home,  where,  as  Petru- 
chio  says,  "but  small  experience  grows,"  our  country  youth 
feel  "the  wind  that  scatters  young  men  through  the  world," 
too  strongly  to  be  resisted ;  better  they  set  their  sails  for  a 
far  western  course,  and  seek  for  newer  fields.  Padua  is  as 
old  as  "  old  Verona,"  and  as  over-filled  with  starving  people. 

Luther  thought  of  his  fair  acquaintance  of  the  steamboat, 
— no  unfrequent  thought  with  him, — and  of  the  firm  of  Ledg- 
eral,  Shippen  &  Co.  "  No  !  never  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  have 
said  it,  and  I  will  stick  to  it !"  Pride,  false  and  foolish  as  it 
most  always  is,  gave  temporary  vigor  to  his  resolution,  and  he 
instantly  closed  his  heart  to  the  suggestion. 

With   equal   firmness  he  rejected   the  impulse  to  return 


NEVER  AGAIN.  95 

to  his  mother.  He  knew  that  he  could  easily  beg  a  passage 
up  the  river  on  some  sloop,  or  if  he  found  any  difficulty  in 
doing  so,  that  he  could  make  the  journey  on  foot  in  a  couple 
of  days.  But  he  could  not  reconcile  himself  to  the  idea  of 
returning  to  his  brother's  rule,  and  still  less  of  announcing  in 
person  to  his  mother  the  failure  of  his  plans. 

Instinctively  his  steps  turned  towards  the  sailor  boarding- 
house  in  West  Street,  where,  with  Captain  Combings,  he  had 
at  first  lodged.  The  landlord  received  him  very  graciously, 
and  kindly  insisted  that  he  should  again  take  up  his  residence 
with  him,  although  Luther  frankly  owned  that  his  pockets 
were  empty,  and  that  he  knew  not  when  they  would  be  replen 
ished.  He  gladly  accepted  the  landlord's  offer  of  a  bed,  re 
solving  that  he  would  pick  up  his  meals  out  of  the  house,  or 
go  without  eating,  sooner  than  trench  further  upon  the  worthy 
man's  hospitality. 

During  the  night  a  brilliant  idea  occurred  to  him.  He 
would  canvass,  personally,  the  whole  business  portion  of  the 
city.  He  would  inquire  and  press  his  inquiries  with  all  prope: 
persistence,  at  every  store,  shop,  and  office.  Something  must 
come  of  it  according  to  the  doctrine  of  chances. 

He  arose  with  a  light  heart,  but,  unluckily,  with  a  light 
stomach  too.  The  sun  was  shining  brightly,  his  level  rays 
lifting  the  mist-veils  from  the  surface  of  the  river,  and  pack 
ing  them  away  amid  the  other  finer}'  of  nature  in  upper  cloud- 
land.  A  row  of  huge  black  ships,  stretched  up  and  down  on 
either  hand,  their  well  slushed  spars  and  blackened  cordage 
gleaming  in  the  morning  light  in  all  the  glistening  glories  of 
fresh  coats  of  grease,  tar,  and  black  paint.  The  streets  and 
bordering  quays  began  to  be  alive  with  a  bustling  crowd  of 
sailors,  stevedores,  riggers,  porters,  draymen  and  custom 
house  officers.  Everything  looked  lively,  cheerful,  and  in 
spiriting. 

Luther  dressed  himself  carefully,  ate  a  piece  of  ship-bis 
cuit  for  his  breakfast,  and  began  his  preambulations  in  one 
of  the  principal  business  streets.  He  called  at  every  door  on 
one  side  of  the  street,  but  with  no  success.  Somewhat  dis- 


96  NEVER    AGAIN. 

heartened  he  took  the  other  side,  and  went  through  it  in  like 
manner.  The  answer  was  invariably  a  prompt  negative. 
Faint  and  hungry  he  stepped  into  two  or  three  bar-rooms,  and, 
pretending  to  look  at  the  papers,  siddled  up  to  the  bar,  and 
helped  himself  to  small  pieces  of  cracker  and  cheese  placed 
there  for  the  bibulous  customers.  It  was  not  a  very  wicked 
thing  to  do,  but  it  was  a  meanness  that,  a  week  ago,  he  would 
have  scouted  as  impossible.  Pinching  poverty  had  begun  its 
demoralizing  work.  More  than  a  hundred  places  he  called 
at  that  day. 

The  next  day  he  arose  and  began  again ;  but  with  no  bet 
ter  fortune.  The  next  day  and  the  next  went  in  the  same 
way,  and  with  them  went  all  confidence  in  the  success  of  his 
scheme.  Every  possible  mode  of  earning  a  livelihood  seemed 
to  be  closed  against  him. 

He  stopped  at  the  door  of  a  blacksmith's  shop :  the 
sparks  were  flying  merrily  from  a  piece  of  iron  on  the  anvil  ; 
as  it  cooled,  the  vigorous  blows  of  the  smith  subsided  into  a 
gentle  tapping,  until  at  length  he  rested  his  hammer  upon  the 
anvil  and  looked  up. 

"  Do  you  want  any  one  to  blow  and  strike  ? "  demanded 
Luther. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  smith ;  "  what  kind  of  .a 
chap  is  he  ? " 

"  I  want  the  situation  myself,"  said  Luther. 

"  You  ! "  exclaimed  the  man  with  a  laugh.  "  No,  I  guess 
we  don't  want  any  such  slick-looking,  nicely-dressed  fellows 
as  you.  A  tack  hammer  would  be  better  for  you  than  a 
sledge,  I  expect.  A  blacksmith's  shop  ain't  no  place  for 
young  dandies ;  you  ought  to  be  behind  a  counter  selling  rib 
bons  and  tape — you  had." 

Luther  turned  away  without  another  word.  He  was  faint 
from  want  of  something  to  eat.  He  went  on  a  block  or  two, 
when  he  spied  in  the  gutter  the  half  of  a  ship-biscuit.  He 
looked  around  cautiously :  no  one  whom  he  could  see  was 
observing  him,  and  stooping,  he  quickly  picked  up  the  frag 
ment,  and,  wrapping  it  in  his  handkerchief,  thrust  it  into 


NEVER  AGAIN.  97 

his  pocket.  He  again  looked  around,  when  he  perceived  that 
from  the  window  of  a  neighboring  counting-room  his  motions 
had  been  observed  by  a  large,  dressy,  good-looking  young 
man,  who  made  a  gesture  indicating  a  desire  to  speak  with 
him.  Luther  was  too  much  ashamed  and  confused  to  heed 
him,  and  turning  away  he  hurried  rapidly  along  the  street. 
As  reflection  came  to  him,  he  was  sorry  that  he  had  not  re 
plied  to  the  inviting  gesture,  but  it  was  too  late.  Who  of  us 
have  not  felt  at  times  that,  by  some  sudden  act  of  caprice, 
passion,  or  negligence,  we  have  turned  a  sharp  corner  of  des 
tiny,  and  forever  left  behind  us  an  avenue  that  might  have  led 
to  something — a  something  which  a  vanity  will  seldom  allow 
fancy  to  paint  otherwise  than  in  very  brilliant  and  enchanting 
colors  ?  Alas  !  for  those  might-have-been  conditions — those 
if-I-had-only-done-so-and-so  possibilities  with  which  we  have 
all  felt  and  still  feel  ourselves  so  closely  surrounded. 

***** 

Luther's  pride  was  now  pretty  well  subdued,  and  during 
a  long  and  wakeful  night  he  pondered  the  propriety  of  mak 
ing  an  application  to  the  father  of  his  young  steamboat 
acquaintance.  Upon  duly  considering  the  matter  he  concluded 
that  it  would  not  be  useful  for  him  to  apply  in  person.  Mr. 
Leclgeral  would  hardly  recollect  him,  and  if  he  did,  he  would 
not  be  likely  to  feel,  Luther  thought,  specially  prompted  by  the 
remembrance  to  any  very  vigorous  action  in  his  behalf.  It 
would  be  best,  then,  to  make  the  application  in  writing.  That 
would  be  some  little  testimony  to  his  abilities,  and  be  more 
likely  to  ensure  some  attention — if  not  from  the  great  man 
himself,  at  least  from  his  subordinates  or  deputies. 

As  soon  as  it  was  light,  he  arose  and  proceeded  to  draft  a 
letter  in  pencil  upon  the  back  of  an  old  theatre  bill,  but  -after 
altering  and  realtering  it  in  almost  every  line,  he  suddenly 
changed  his  mind,  and  decided  to  write  to  the  young  lady 
herself.  Once  on  the  inclined  plane  of  self-humiliation,  he 
was  not  one  to  stop  short  of  the  bottom.  But  if  writing  to 
the  father  was  difficult,  writing  to  the  daughter  was  next  door 
to  an  impossibility.  Having,  however,  once  conceived  the 
7 


98  NEVER   AGAIN. 

idea,  he  was  determined  to  carry  it  out.  Repeated  trials  and 
repeated  failures  did  not  deter  him.  He  knew  that  he  had 
the  ability  to  write  a  fitting  note.  A  dim  consciousness  of 
the  artistic  instinct — that  instinct  that  hunts  out,  through  the 
mazes  of  words  or  the  mazes  of  form  and  color,  the  exact 
and  proper  expression — stirred  within  him.  He  felt  that,  if 
he  only  worked  long  enough  and  hard  enough,  he  should  at 
length  succeed  in  so  weighing  every  word  and  phrase,  and  so 
qualifying  and  arranging  them,  that  his  note  should  be  artis 
tically,  whatever  its  result,  just  the  thing.  If  he  starved  to 
death,  he  would  starve  with  the  conviction  that  he  had  not 
written  a  ridiculous  and  feeble  note  to  her. 

Luther  thought  of  the  enraged  artist,  who,  having  worked 
for  a  long  time  in  vain  on  a  picture,  threw  his  brush  full  of 
paint  at  the  canvas,  and  at  once  achieved  the  desired  effect. 

"  Decidedly,"  he  exclaimed  aloud,  "  the  man  of  colors  has 
an  advantage  over  the  artist  in  words.  I  might  serve  my 
paper  as  my  great  namesake  did  the  devil,  and  throw  a  full 
inkstand  without  any  chance  of  hitting  the  right  expression. 
There,  that  will  do — it  must  do  ! "  and  wearily  he  read  over, 
for  the  fiftieth  time,  the  amended  and  rewritten  and  trans 
formed  draft : 

"  Miss  Ledgeral  will  undoubtedly  recollect  an  incident  which  occur 
red  on  the  Hudson  some  six  weeks  since :  the  running  down  and  sinking 
of  a  sloop  by  the  steamboat  on  which  Miss  Ledgeral  was  a  passenger. 
She  will,  perhaps,  also  recollect  a  person  who  was  rescued  from  the  sinking 
sloop,  and  whom  she  honored  with  a  few  words  of  conversation,  and  an 
offer  of  assistance  in  case  of  need.  Friendless,  homeless,  penniless,  and 
utterly  dispirited  at  the  ill-success  attending  every  effort  to  procure  em 
ployment,  Luther  Lansdale  ventures  to  remind  Miss  Ledgeral  of  her  kind 
offer,  and  to  beg  her  influence  with  the  head  of  the  firm  of  Ledgeral, 
fchippen  &  Co.,  to  which  firm  he  is  going  to  apply  for  employment  of 
some  kind.  He  knows,  from,  his  recent  disheartening  but  conclusive  ex 
perience,  the  futility  of  making  any  such  application  unless  Miss  Ledg 
eral  exerts  her  influence  in  his  favor.  He  knows,  however,  his  ability  to 
make  himself  in  time  useful  in  various  ways,  and  his  willingness  to  make 
the  attempt  in  any  situation,  however  humble,  and  however  laborious, 
and  he  knows,  above  all  things,  his  determination  to  do  no  dishonor  to 
Miss  Ledgeral's  recommendation. 


NEVER   AGAIN.  99 

"  Hoping  that  Miss  Ledgeral  will  recall  to  mind  her  earnest  kind 
ness  of  tone  and  manner  at  the  time  of  the  accident,  and  that,  however 
uninterested  she  may  now  feel,  and  however  indisposed  to  take  any 
notice  of  this  note,  she  will  not  deem  it  wholly  unwarranted  or  presump 
tuous,  the  writer  begs  leave  to  subscribe  himself 

"  Her  very  humble  servant, 

Luther  having  carefully  copied  his  letter  in  his  best  hand, 
on  a  sheet  of  paper  borrowed  from  his  landlord,  set  out  to 
deliver  it  in  person.  Arrived  at  Washington  Square,  his 
courage  failed  him.  He  passed  and  repassed  the  house  a 
dozen  times — walked  around  the  square  repeatedly,  and  took 
short  excursions  up  the  streets  leading  into  it.  He  had  eaten 
nothing  for  two  days  but  the  piece  of  cracker  he  had  picked 
up  in  the  gutter.  He  felt  very  faint  by  turns,  and  soon  grew 
very  tired.  Two  or  three  times  he  had  to  stop  and  hold  on 
to  the  park  railings,  pretending  the  while  to  be  very  much  in 
terested  in  the  gambols  of  the  children  who  were  at  play 
within.  At  length,  utterly  exhausted,  he  seated  himself  upon 
the  stone  foundation  of  the  iron  railing.  His  heart  was  cold 
and  as  heavy  as  lead.  He  could  feel  each  one  of  its  feeble 
and  reluctant  pulsations.  His  head  ached  and  throbbed  with 
an  occasional  swimming  sensation,  as  if  about  to  whirl  itself 
round  and  sail  away  from  his  shoulders.  . 

Suddenly  he  started  to  his  feet.  His  mental  hesita 
tion  was  at  an  end.  Imagination  had  done  her  worst.  He 
might  die  perhaps  of  starvation,  but  he  would  not  be  fright 
ened  to  death  by  the  vague  terrors  of  his  own  vagabond 
fancy.  He  crossed  the  street,  ascended  the  steps,  and  rang 
the  bell. 

The  door  was  opened  by  an  old  colored  man,  in  a  white 
neck-cloth  and  a  glossy  and  rather  voluminous  suit  of  black. 
An  embodiment  of  so  much  African  dignity  would  have  been 
overwhelming,  had  it  not  been  modified  by  a  benignant  smile 
and  an  impressive  courtly  courteousness  of  manner. 

"  Is  Miss  Ledgeral  at  home  ?  "  demanded  Luther. 

"  Miss  Ledgeral,  sar !  Miss  Ledgeral  am  gwine  out  ob 
town  wid  her  mudder,"  replied  the  sen-ant ;  "  but,"  he  added, 


ioo  NEVER   AGAIN. 

seeing  Luther's  look  of  dismay,  and  the  increasing  pallor  of 
his  cheek,  "  Miss  Helen  Ledgeral  is  at  home  ;  mabbe  she'll 
attend  to  any  communercation." 

"  Miss  Helen  Ledgeral !  "  Here  was  a  dilemma.  Was 
it  Miss  Helen  Ledgeral  that  he  wanted  ?  How  stupid  in  him 
not  to  think  that  she  might  have  sisters,  and  that  in  writing 
to  a  young  lady  it  was  very  necessary  to  know  her  name. 

The  negro  held  the  door  invitingly  open,  and  almost 
unconsciously  Luther  entered  the  hall. 

"  I  don't  know — that  is,  am  not  sure,"  he  stammered  out, 
at  the  same  time  grasping  the  hat-stand  to  steady  himself, 
"  but  I  thought — that  is,  I  have  a  letter  for  a  young  lady  that 
was  on  the  steamboat " — 

"  Look  'ere,  young  man,"  exclaimed  the  old  negro,  sud 
denly  assuming  a  very  stern  tone,  "  I  tink  you  tink  dis  pussan 
a  fool,  eh  ?  You  shake  your  head  '  No,'  den  you  make  a 
great  mistake  to  tink  dis  house  am  a  steamboat — a  mistake 
which  is  excusible  only  upon  de  supposishum  dat  you  have 
gotten  de  steam  up  too  high  here,  sar !  "  and  the  old  fellow 
frowned  and  touched  his  forehead  with  his  finger  emphati 
cally. 

Luther  tried  to  make  some  reply,  but  his  tongue  failed 
him,  he  could  only  extend  his  hand  with  the  letter.  At  that 
instant  a  lithe  female  figure  darted  from  the  parlor,  crossed 
the  hall,  and  bounded  up  the  stairs,  two  steps  at  a  time,  in 
the  very  watonness  of  youthful  agility.  There  was  a  mist 
creeping  over  Luther's  eyes,  and  the  gaslight  in  the  hall  was 
not  burning  very  brightly,  but  he  recognized  at  a  glance  the 
cloud  of  golden  ringlets  which  he  had  seen  but  once  before, 
and  then  only  in  curl  papers. 

Half  way  up  the  stairs  the  young  girl  paused,  and  turned 
upon  hearing  the  voices  at  the  door. 

"  What  is  that,  Joseph  ? — a  parcel  for  me  ? " 

"  No,  Miss  Helen,  'tis  a  young  man  dat  has  got  a  letter 
for  somebody  in  a  steamboat.  But — oh  lor  !  what  is  de  mat 
ter!"  exclaimed  Joseph,  as  Luther  sank  senseless  to  the  floor. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Mr.  Ledgeral  in  his  Study — The  Editor  Disturbs  Him — A  Valuable 
Report — Helen's  Appeal  to  her  Father — Luther's  Letter — Joseph's 
Predictions — A  Sailor's  Yarn — Luther's  Poetry — A  Double  Metaphor. 

MR.  LEDGERAL  sat  in  his  study,  the  very  impersona 
tion  of  genteel  respectability.  There  were  the  two  or 
three  carved  book-cases,  filled  with  handsomely-bound  vol 
umes  ;  there  was  the  walnut  cloth-covered  table,  loaded  with 
the  largest  kind  of  bronze  ink-stand  and  pen-rack,  besides 
portfolio,  manuscripts,  maps,  engravings,  and  books  of  refer 
ence  ;  there  were  the  two  inevitable  globes,  handsomely 
mounted  on  rosewood  stands ;  there  were  the  red  and  green 
curtains,  and  the  green  and  red  carpet — small  pattern,  rich, 
but  not  gaudy — the  genuine  library  tone  ;  there  were  a 
couple  of  vases  of  porcelain,  not  beautiful,  but  valuable  from 
having  once  belonged  to  the  dowager-duchess  of  Sax-Graen- 
ingen,  and  the  curious  circumstances  under  which  they  came 
into  the  possession  of  their  owner;  and  over  the  mantel 
piece  there  were  several  small  pictures — regular  gems  of  the 
old  masters — picked  up  by  the  greatest  good  luck,  twenty 
years  ago,  out  of  some  old  neglected  rubbish  in  a  shop  just 
around  the  corner  of  the  first  street  to  the  right  as  you  come 
out  of  the  museum  of  Dresden ;  one  by  Raphael — a  female 
with  a  simper  of  excessive  purity  on  her  face,  and  an  un 
dressed  infant  in  her  arms — was  evidently  a  Madonna  and 
child ;  in  fact,  no  one  ever  disputed  its  being  a  Madonna  and 
child.  Another  was  a  Magdalen  by  Guido.  Guido  did  occa 
sionally  paint  Magdalens,  you  know,  and  this  is  one  of  them  j 
and  a  third  is  just  as  clearly  a  Carlo  Dolci.  No  one  could 


102  NEVER  AGAIN. 

doubt,  with  that  charming  lilac  tint :  every  picture  he  ever 
painted  has  it,  you  know. 

Amid  his  books  and  pictures,  in  a  capacious,  patent  ellip 
tical,  spring-bottomed,  morocco-covered  arm-chair,  sat  Mr. 
Leclgeral,  the  picture  of  elegant  respectability,  or  if  not  a  pic 
ture,  a  very  pretty  study  for  a  picture  of  that  estimable  quali 
ty,  could  he  have  been  seen  and  sketched  by  some  artist  of 
an  allegoric  turn  of  mind.  Down  in  his  counting-room,  in 
Burling  Slip,  or  in  the  bank-parlor  in  Wall  Street,  the  study 
would  have  been  one  simply  of  moneyed  respectability.  He 
would  hardly  have  been  content  to  sit  for  that.  He  would 
have  felt  that  old  Rhindergelt  would  do  as  well,  or  better, 
especiaHy  as  old  Rhindergelt  had  the  most  money,  and  was 
likely  to  have  more,  "having  never,"  as  he  told  Mr.  Ledgeral 
one  day,  "  wasted  a  dollar  on  a  potry-book,  a  picter,  a  stat 
ute,  or  a  mosaic." 

Lolling  in  his  carriage,  perhaps  with  Madame  at  his  side, 
half  buried  in  an  overflowing  flood  of  silk  flounces  ;  coach 
man  and  footman  in  dark  blue  ;  crest  on  harness  and  panel, 
and  a  pair  of  thoroughbreds  stepping  as  if  playfully  trying  to 
paw  at  their  pole-straps  ;  or,  seated  at  his  own  dinner-table, 
surrounded  by  all  the  blazing  glories  of  burnished  silver, 
bohemian  glass,  flowers,  fruit,  and  spun  sugar,  the  picture 
would  have  been  one  of  great  elegance,  it  is  true,  but  largely 
of  mere  ostentatious  and  fashionable  respectability.  Now  Mr. 
Ledgeral  had  too  much  ambition  for  mere  moneyed  respecta 
bility,  too  much  taste  and  mental  cultivation  for  mere  fashion 
able  respectability.  Foreign  travel,  some  knowledge  of  the 
world,  a  little  desultory  reading,  combined  with  that  kind  of 
imperfect  half-and-half  education  that  teaches  a  man  a  good 
deal,  but  that  utterly  prevents  him  from  knowing  how  much 
he  don't  know,  had  had  the  customary  and  legitimate  effect, 
and  generated  a  creditable  amount  of  dogmatic  dilettanteism, 
and  a  decided  inclination  towards  an  elevated,  elegant,  cul 
tured  respectability.  And  that  was  the  picture  he  would  have 
made  had  Hicks,  or  Baker,  or  Huntingdon  been  at  hand,  as 
he  sat  amid  his  books,  papers,  and  pictures,  in  his  patent 
elliptical,  spring-bottomed,  morroco-covered  arm-chair. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  103 

More  than  twenty  years  had  passed  since  we  first  saw  him 
at  Baden,  but  notwithstanding  those  years  had  had  their  cares 
and  troubles  and  labors,  he  was  still  comparatively  a  young- 
looking  man — a  little  more  portliness,  a  few  wrinkles,  and  a 
sparsity  of  hair  on  the  crown,  that  the  most  assiduous  train 
ing  of  the  side  locks  could  hardly  conceal,  were  almost  the 
only  marks  that  he  exhibited  to  his  casual  acquaintances  of 
his  manful  contest  with  Time.  No,  not  the  only  marks. 
There  were  those  impertinent  white  hairs  which  will  intrude 
themselves  so  wonderfully  early  into  the  most  luxuriant  whis 
kers,  and  which,  when  there  is  plenty  of  red  in  the  complexion, 
are  not,  perhaps,  unbecoming.  These  he  made  no  effort  to 
conceal,  contrary  to  the  advice  of  Mr.  Whoppers,  who  was 
always  ready  with  his  advice,  no  matter  how  delicate  the  sub 
ject.  "  Why  don't  you  dye  ? "  said  that  gentleman  to  him  one 
day.  "  I  would,  if  I  were  you.  You  know  it  is  only  weak 
and  demoralized  nations  that  yield  to  the  first  attack  of  the 
invader." 

Madame  D'Okenheime,  now,  could  she  have  suddenly 
seen  him,  would  probably  have  discovered  much  greater 
changes.  She  would  have  had  the  advantage  of  comparing 
him  with  himself — then  and  now,  untrammelled  by  the  sha 
ding  and  confusing  influence  of  daily  observation,  and  would 
not  only  have  been  struck  by  the  physical  marks  of  advan 
cing  age,  but  would,  also,  have  been  able  to  detect  many 
slight  and  undefined  changes  of  expression  that  just  as 
clearly  indicate  the  wear  and  tear  of  time  upon  the  soul. 

And  this  observation  brings  us  naturally  and  directly  to 
the  subject  of  the  pleasant  thoughts  that,  to  judge  from  the 
half-formed  smile  on  his  lips,  were  floating  through  his  mind. 
He  was  thinking  of  that  sunny  time  at  Baden  ;  of  those  de 
lightful  walks  by  the  banks  of  the  Oose ;  of  his  fair  compan 
ion  in  those  walks,  who  had  so  suddenly  disappeared  from  his 
passionate  gaze,  and  to  whose  place  of  retreat,  or  possible 
fate,  his  most  diligent  researches  had  been  able  to  discover 
no  clue.  Pleasant  memories  no  doubt,  but  very  wrong  in  a 
married  man,  a  father  of  a  family,  and  a  member  of  the 


104  NEVER  AGAIN. 

church.  He  felt  that  they  were  very  wrong,  and  a  hundred 
times  he  had  resolved  to  banish  them  entirely.  He  perhaps 
would  have  succeeded  in  doing  so  had  not  his  curiosity  been 
continually  piqued  by  a  mystery  that  he  could  not  solve. 
What  had  become  of  her?  Why  did  she  leave  Baden  so  sud 
denly,  for  Basle,  without  bidding  him  good-bye  ?  Why,  at 
Basle,  could  he  find  no  trace  of  her?  Had  the  aroused 
jealousy  of  her  husband  anything  to  do  with  her  disappear 
ance  ?  If  so,  what  had  been  her  fate,  and  why  had  he  never 
been  able  to  find  any  German  who  knew  anything  of  the 
family  or  name  ? 

He,  could  not  answer  these  questions,  and  so,  despite  a 
sense  of  propriety,  and  marital  duty,  and  the  prickings  of  a 
conscience,  stirred  up  to  a  weekly  qui  vive  by  the  exhortations 
of  the  pious  and  fashionable  rector  of  St.  Cyprians,  and  not 
withstanding  a  tolerably  clear  conviction  that  the  secret  pride 
many  excellent  men  take  in  certain  kinds  of  by-gone  and  re- 
pented-of  sin,  adds  no  great  unction  to  the  "  Good  Lord  de 
liver  us  "  of  the  penitent,  he  could  not  help  chewing  the  cud 
of  recollection,  and  occasionally  rolling  the  sweet  morsel 
under  his  tongue. 

He  arose,  and  taking  a  bunch  of  keys  from  his  pocket, 
selected  one  that  opened  an  inner  drawer  of  his  writing-table. 
From  this  drawer  he  took  out  an  old  and  well-worn  pocket- 
book,  and  from  the  pocket-book  a  tress  of  fine  silky  light- 
brown  hair.  He  held  it  up  between  his  eye  and  the  window, 
through  which  streamed  the  reddish  light  of  the  setting  sun. 
He  watched,  lost  in  thought,  the  gleams  of  the  secret,  hardly 
suspected  ruby-shades  that,  secure  in  their  auburn  cover  from 
the  attacks  of  reflected  light,  were  compelled  to  come  out 
from  their  hiding-places  by  the  more  powerful  and  penetra 
ting  transmitted  rays.  While  engaged  in  this  interesting  oc 
cupation,  the  door  was  suddenly  opened,  and  the  Editor  of 
the  New  York  Universe  was  ushered  into  the  room. 

Mr.  Ledgeral  started.  His  first  impulse  was  to  conceal 
the  tress  of  hair,  but  seeing  who  his  visitor  was,  he  changed 
his  mind,  and,  while  returning  Mr.  Whoppers'  salutation, 


NEVER  AGAIN.  105 

deliberately  proceeded  to  fold  up  the  ringlet  in  its  paper  en 
velope,  and  return  it  to  the  recesses  of  the  old  pocket-book. 

"  You  are  late,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Ledgeral ;  "  I  have  finished 
dinner,  and  have  been  expecting  you  this  half  hour." 

"  Couldn't  help  it,"  replied  Mr.  Whoppers,  in  a  familiar, 
free-and-easy  tone.  "  Couldn't  find  an  uncrowded  omnibus, 
and  had  to  knock  my  feet  against  the  curb-stone  of  Fulton 
Street  for  twenty  minutes.  But  I  see  you  had  something  to 
amuse  you  ;  sorry  to  disturb  your  after-dinner  musings  ;  study 
ing  Locke,  eh  ?  Mrs.  Ledgeral  has  brown  hair,  I  believe. 
But,  my  dear  sir,  light  tress  or  dark  tress,  don't  let  what  I  say 
or  saw  distress  you." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  colored  up  a  little,  and  looked  for  an  in 
stant  somewhat  confused.  "  Oh,  pshaw,  it  was  nothing  but 
an  old  lock  of  hair  that  I  was  looking  at.  Twenty  years  ago, 
and  more,  it  came  of  a  little  affaire  de  coeur  I  had  when  quite 
a  youngster,  in  Europe." 

"  Affair  de  cur  !  Ah,  yes,  I  see — a  dog-fight,"  said  Mr. 
Whoppers. 

"  A  dog-fight !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Ledgeral,  in  a  slightly  in 
dignant  tone,  which,  however,  was  wholly  unobserved  by  his 
visitor. 

"  What  else  should  it  be  ?  An  affair  de  eur,  and  in  your 
days  of  puppyhood,  too.  I  suppose  thereby  hangs  a  tale  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Ledgeral,  still  more  stiffly  ;  "  there  is, 
and  was,  no  tale." 

"  No  tale  !  Why,  sir,  you  are  as  bad  off  as  the  old  knife- 
grinder,  or  a  Scotch  terrier.  But,  perhaps,  the  tale  was  cut 
short  in  your  days  of  puppyhood,  or  may  be  bit  off  in  the 
affair  de  cur — ha !  ha  !  ha  !  Good  idea,  that.  I'll  put  it  in  the 
next  Universe." 

Could  the  stately,  elegant,  fastidious,  and  somewhat  re 
served  Mr.  Ledgeral  have  had  his  own  way,  he  would  have 
rung  for  a  servant,  and  directed  that  Mr.  Whoppers  should  be 
shown  to  the  street  door.  But  there  was  an  ambitious  Mr. 
Ledgeral  that  counselled  differently,  and  there  was  an  excess 
ively  vain  Mr.  Ledgeral  that  couldn't  bear  the  idea  of  quar 


lo6  NEVER  AGAIN. 

rolling  with  so  useful  a  person  as  the  editor  of  the  New  York 
Universe,  and  one  who  had  it  in  his  power  to  take  such 
prompt  revenge,  not  only  in  the  pages  of  the  Universe,  but 
in  the  columns  of  the  daily  press,  with  which  he  still  sus 
tained  intimate  relations.  It  was  not,  however,  the  mere  fact 
that  Mr.  Whoppers  owned  and  edited  a  journal  that  gave 
him  his  influence  with  Mr.  Ledgeral.  True,  it  was  pleasant 
for  a  vain  man  to  see  his  name  in  print,  even  in  a  weekly 
jourrial,  and  that  not,  perhaps,  of  the  greatest  circulation,  in 
connection  with  some  laudatory  notice  of  a  report  or  set 
of  resolutions,  or  speech ;  or  with  some  allusion  to  mer 
chant  princes  and  citizens  of  the  highest  respectability  ;  or 
with  some  editorial  suggestion  of  the  right  kind  of  a  candi 
date  upon  whom  all  parties  could  unite  their  suffrages,  for 
Mayor,  or  Member  of  Congress,  or  State  Senator.  All  this 
is  very  pleasant  and  agreeable  ;  somewhat  expensive,  it  is 
true,  but,  if  a  gentleman  will  beg  or  buy  his  newspaper-fame 
he  must  expect  to  pay  for  it  in  some  form. 

There  were,  however,  other  services  much  more  important 
than  the  editor  of  the  Universe  had  it  in  his  power  to  render. 

Mr.  Ledgeral  had  a  great  flow  of  ideas.  He  had  ideas 
of  the  highest  importance  upon  all  subjects,  political,  social, 
literary,  and  artistic.  His  intellect  rambled  over  every  field 
of  human  thought,  except  the  purely  scientific.  In  that,  he 
found  the  fences  too  high  and  straight,  the  hedges  too  stiff, 
and  the  ditches  too  wide,  and  the  troublesome  stumps  of 
naked  facts  not  unfrequently  sticking  themselves  right  up  in 
the  path.  He  had  also  a  great  flow  of  words.  He  could  talk  by 
the  hour  on  his  favorite  topics  ;  but,  somehow,  when  he  came 
to  writing,  his  flow  of  ideas  and  his  flow  of  words  did  not 
combine  happily.  Like  the  currents  of  the  Arve  and  Rhone, 
the  confluence  was  imperfect,  or  established  with  difficulty. 
He  could  not  write  elegantly  or  clearly.  Why  it  should  be  so, 
he  was  puzzled  to  understand.  He  was  desirous  of  writing 
well.  He  had  labored  and  studied  to  acquire  the  art  of  writ 
ing  well.  It  was  important  to  the  world  and  society  that  he 
should  write  well,  inasmuch  as  he  had  so  many  valuable 


NEVER   AGAIN.  107 

thoughts  and  suggestions  to  publish,  and  so  many  reports  to 
present  of  nominating,  and  building,  and  fund-raising  com 
mittees  of  the  Historical,  Geographical,  and  Ethnological  As 
sociations  ;  and  many  resolutions  to  draw,  and  speeches  to 
make  for  the  societies  of  St.  Nicholas,  St.  George,  and  St. 
David,  to  say  nothing  of  the  Chamber  of  Commerce,  and 
Tammany  Hall.  Why  couldn't  he  write  well,  and  brilliantly, 
and  clearly? 

"I'll  tell  you,"  said  Mr.  Whoppers,  bluntly,  "to  write 
clearly  and  brilliantly,  a  man  must  think  clearly  and  bril 
liantly." 

"And  do  you  mean  to  say  that  I  don't  think  clearly?  I 
say  nothing  of  brilliantly,  but  I  will  say,  sir,  clearly  and  cor 
rectly,"  demanded  Mr.  Ledgeral,  justly  indignant  that  a  man 
whom  he  was  treating  to  a  lunch  of  Spanish  mackerel  and 
Rudesheimer  at  Delmonico's  should  venture  such  a  thrust  at 
his  Amphitryon's  vanity.  Are  not  the  ideas  I  give  you  to 
work  over  perfectly  clear  ? " 

Mr.  Whoppers  shut  one  eye,  and  rolled  the  other  with  a 
cool,  quizzical  leer,  from  his  glass  of  Rudesheimer  to  the  face 
of  his  entertainer.  There  was  nothing  of  the  parasite  about 
the  editor  of  the  Universe.  He  was  always  ready  to  eat  his 
dinner,  provided  it  was  a  good  one,  with  any  one  who  would 
pay  for  it ;  or  he  was  ever  ready  to  pocket  his  pay  for  a  puff  or 
first-rate  notice  ;  but  he  was  no  sycophant.  He  had  too  high 
a  sense  of  his  position  for  that.  He  felt  that  only  a  state  of 
habitual  beneficent  condescension  enabled  him  to  associate  on 
equal  terms  with  fellows  who  couldn't  write  leading  articles, 
or  dress  up  a  sensational  "  to-be-continued,"  or  make  decent 
puns. 

"  Ideas  ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers,  one  day,  in  a  tone 
of  careless  effrontery,  characteristic  of  the  literary  Bohemian. 
"  Ideas !  I  never  knew  you  to  have  any  ideas  at  all — few 
people  have  ideas.  Ghosts  of  ideas,  sir,  such  as  always  stalk 
round  at  dinner-tables,  and  haunt  conversaziones  and  tea- 
fights, — people  very  generally  mistake  them  for  ideas ;  but 
they  are  nothing  but  ghosts  of  ideas,  or  at  best,  nothing  but 


108  NEVER    AGAIN. 

skeletons — mere  skeletons,  nothing  but  bones,  sir,  and  often 
with  the  molities  ossium  at  that.  It  requires  sharp  thinking  to 
fill  'em  up  with  fat  and  flesh.  Mere  expression  afterwards  is 
nothing.  They  hop  into  a  coat  of  words  and  sentences  as 
naturally  and  as  readily  as  if  a  dozen  literary  tailors  had 
been  cutting  up  dictionaries  on  purpose." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  would  not,  and  could  not,  admit  the  truth 
of  this ;  but  he  found  it  useless  to  discuss  the  question  with 
such  a  dogmatic  opponent.  He  continued  to  find  ideas  for 
numerous  reports  and  speeches,  while  Mr.  Whoppers  cut  and 
trimmed,  and  patched  the  brilliant  rhetorical  dresses  in 
which  they  figured  before  the  world. 

It  would  not  do  for  the  two  to  quarrel,  and  least  of  either 
would  it  do  for  Mr.  Ledgeral ;  so,  instead  of  ringing  the  bell 
for  a  servant  to  show  his  visitor  the  door,  he  forced  himself  to 
smile  a  little,  in  a  mild  way,  at  the  terribly  witty  version  of  an 
affaire  de  caeur,  and  at  once  reverted  to  the  business  'which 
was  the  object  of  Mr.  Whoppers'  visit. 

"You  have  finished  the  report?"  he  demanded.  Mr 
Whoppers  nodded,  and  produced  from  his  pocket  a  roll  of 
manuscript,  and  the  two  were  soon  engrossed  in  the  reading 
and  revision  of  a  report  upon  the  statistics  of  juvenile  mud 
larks  and  dock-wollopers ;  with  an  inquiry  into  the  relation 
between  exposed  molasses-casks  and  sugar-hogsheads,  and 
the  numbers,  condition,  and  final  fate  of  these  youthful  spec 
imens  of  total  depravity.  "  And  your  committee  would  re 
spectfully  suggest,"  read  Mr.  Whoppers,  with  increased  unc 
tion,  as  he  came  to  the  conclusion,  "  that  the  most  active 
measures  be  immediately  taken  to  remove  this  great  and 
growing  evil ;  and  they  would  recommend  as  a  practical 
measure  of  the  highest  importance,  that  the  rising  generation 
of  our  pauper  population  should  be  at  once  taught  the  neces 
sity  and  utility  of  settled  habits  of  honest  industry ;  that  they 
should  be  made  to  see  the  disgusting  deformity  of  idleness 
and  vice,  and  the  beauties  of  virtue  and  holiness ;  and  that 
they  should  be  imbued,  as  rapidly  as  possible,  with  a  taste  for 
the  purer  enjoyments  and  more  refined  pleasures  of  life." 


NEVER  AGAIN.  109 

"That  sounds  well,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Ledgeral,  as  the 
reader  concluded. 

"You  flatter  me,"  said  Mr.  Whoppers  ;  "the  sound  is  mine, 
but  the  sense  is  yours.  I  claim  nothing  but  the  sound,  vox  et 
prcterca  nihil." 

The  conversation  was  interrupted.  The  door  was  sud 
denly  flung  open,  when  Miss  Helen  Ledgeral,  with  a  gliding, 
but  impetuous  step,  came  into  the  room.  We  will  not  stop  to 
describe  her  here,  inasmuch  as  it  will  be  necessary  to  do  so 
more  fully  further  on,  when,  by  some  three  years  of  efflorescent 
force,  the  budding  beauties  of  sixteen  shall  have  been  ripened 
into  all  the  luxuriant  glories  of  confirmed  womanhood.  Helen 
drew  back  for  an  instant,  but  seeing  that  the  visitor  was  only 
Mr.  Whoppers,  she  simply  subdued  somewhat  of  her  excited 
manner,  and  advanced  a  little  more  quietly,  but  still  with  rapid 
energy,  towards  her  father. 

"  Oh !  father  !  father  !  "  she  exclaimed  ;  "  you  recollect 
the  young  man  whom  we  picked  up  out  of  the  river  that  night 
when  the  sloop  was  run  down.  Well,  he's  here,  or  rather,  he 
was  here ;  but  he's  gone  now,  and  he  fainted  almost  dead 
away  in  the  hall,  and  Joseph  thought  at  first  that  he  was 
drunk ;  but  I  knew  that  he  wasn't  drunk,  and  I  ran  and  got 
some  water,  and  was  going  to  throw  it  in  his  face ;  but  he 
came  to,  and  I  made  him  drink  the  water,  and  then  he  thanked 
me.  Oh,  you  should  see  him  ;  such  a  gentlemanly  way,  and 
well  dressed,  too !  He  doesn't  look  at  all  as  he  did  that 
night  on  the  steamboat.  He's  grown  so  thin  and  pale,  and 
Joseph  says  that  he  wishes  now  he'd  got  him  a  glass  of  wine, 
for  he  thinks  that  perhaps  he  was  faint  for  want  of  something 
to  eat ;  and  I  wish  so,  too,  only  I  know  he  wouldn't  have  taken 
it;  but  I  do  wish  Joseph  had  got  it  for  him,  and  if  I  had  only 
thought  of  it,  he  might  have  got  him  some  of  the  meringues 
and  some  charlotte-russe.  The  dinner-things  have  not  all  been 
cleared  away,  and  there  is  a  whole  form  that  we  didn't  touch." 
"  Well,  well,  tell  us  what  this  young  gentleman  came  for — 
not  merely  to  renew  his  acquaintance  with  you,  I  hope," 
said  Mr.  Ledgeral. 


no  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"  That  is  just  what  I  was  going  to  tell  you.  He  came 
here  to  leave  this  letter,  and  he  did  not  intend  to  come  in,  but 
he  thought  that  Joseph  said  I  was  not  in  town,  and  while 
talking  about  it  he  grew  faint.  Oh,  father,  you  must  do  some 
thing  for  him  !  Read  the  letter,  and  promise  me,  promise  me 
that  you  will  find  a  situation  for  him.  I  don't  care  what, 
if  it's  nice.  He  wants  to  make  a  large  fortune  as  soon  as 
possible,  and  I  want  that  he  should." 

"  Fortunate  youth  to  have  such  an  advocate,"  said  Mr. 
Whoppers.  "  What  had  he  to  offer  as  a  retainer — good  looks, 
eh  ?  Ah !  Miss  Helen,  look  out,  or  rather,  look  in ;  take  care 
and  read  your  Wordsworth — 

"  '  He  was  a  lovely  youth,  I  guess, 
The  panther  in  the  wilderness 

Was  not  so  fair  as  he. 
And  when  he  chose  to  sport  and  play, 
No  dolphin  ever  was  so  gay 

Upon  the  tropic  sea.'  " 

"  Oh,  you  are  laughing  at  me,  Mr.  Whoppers,  but  you  are 
right,  too.  I  am  a  good  advocate,  for  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do 
if  papa  don't  promise — I'll  put  on  my  hat  and  run  right 
around  to  Uncle  Shippen.  I  can  do  anything  with  Uncle 
Shippen.  You  may  laugh,  but  I  can  make  him  do  anything 
I  please." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it,  Miss  Helen  ;  I've  no  doubt  that  beneath 
your  smile  his  very  purse-strings  would  relax,  to  say  nothing 
of  his  heart-strings.  He'd  be  a  harder  old  codger  than  I 
think  he  is,  if  he  did  not  yield  to  such  influences." 

"  You  mean  a  compliment  to  me,  I  suppose,  Mr.  Whop 
pers,  but  I  won't  thank  you  for  it,  if  you  call  Uncle  Shippen 
an  old  codger,"  exclaimed  Helen. 

Mr.  Whoppers  was  beginning  to  apologize  in  a  mocking 
tone,  when  he  was  cut  short  by  Mr.  Ledgeral. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that  ? "  said  he,  tossing  Luther's 
letter  across  the  table ;  "  it  seems  to  me  uncommonly  well 
expressed." 

Mr.   Whoppers  took  the  letter,  and  ran  his  eye  over  it 


NEVER  AGAIN.  IH 

"  Luther  Lansdale  !  "  he  exclaimed ;  "  why,  I  believe  I  know 
the  youngster." 

"  Oh,  that  is  so  nice !  "  exclaimed  Helen.  "  Papa,  Mr. 
Whoppers  knows  him.  Now  you  must  do  something  for  him ; 
he  is  an  intimate  friend  of  Mr.  Whoppers.  You're  sure  you 
know  him  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Whoppers  ;  "  he  is,  or  was,  a  few  days 
since,  a  fellow-boarder  of  mine.  I  did  not  get  very  well  ac 
quainted  with  him,  but  I  liked  what  little  I  saw  of  him,  very 
much.  If  you  will  commission  me,  sir,  and  you,  Miss  Helen, 
I  will  hunt  him  up,  and  give  him  some  encouragement.  Poor 
fellow,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  wanted  something  more  than 
money  or  occupation,  and  that  is  a  kind  word — ah !  I've 
known  what  the  want  of  that  is,  myself." 

"  Oh,  delightful !  thank  you  !  thank  you  ! — you  must,  papa, 
agree  to  that.  Let  Mr.  Whoppers  see  him,  and  tell  him  that 
there  is  a  place  for  him  in  your  counting-room,  and  that  you 
will  give  him  six  hundred  ;  no,  eight  hundred  ;  no,  a  thousand 
dollars  a  year." 

"Pshaw!  Helen,  you  are  talking  about  what  you  don't 
know  anything  about.  But  we'll  see — we'll  see  ;  go  now,  my 
dear,  and  tell  Joseph  to  bring  in  tea." 

Joseph  was  shuffling  about  the  hall,  as  if  engaged  in  his 
usual  duties,  but  in  reality  waiting  anxiously  for  the  result  of 
the  conference  in  the  library. 

"Ki!  Missy  Helen!  Did  yer  succeed  in  yer  applumca- 
tion  ? " 

"Oh,  yes,  he's  going  to  have  a  place." 

"  Well,  dat's  good.  I  like  de  looks  ob  dat  young  man. 
He  looks  furs  rate.  He  ain't  none  ob  yer  common  sort.  And 
he's  gwine  to  hab  a  place  in  de  old  store ;  and  you  got  it  for 
him,  eh  ? " 

Joseph  paused,  and  laid  his  finger  alongside  of  his  nose, 
and  shut  one  eyej  and  otherwise  assumed  a  highly  reflective 
attitude. 

"  I  tell  ye  what,  Missy  Helen,  dar'll  be  a  conserquence,  dar 
will.  Dat  young  man  is  gwine  to  fall  in  lub  wid  you,  he  is." 


112  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"Oh,  go  along,  you  old  goose,  and  get  father's  tea,"  re 
plied  Helen,  entering  the  parlor  and  closing  the  door. 

"  Yes,  I  is  an  old  goose.  I  was  born  in  her  gandfader's 
house  fifteen  year  before  her  fader,  and  I  guess  I'm  old 
enough  to  calkelate  how  the  young  gosling's  gwine  to  act. 
Jess  as  likely  as  not,  she'll  fall  in  lub,  herself;  'cause  you  see, 
honey,  when  a  young  gal  does  someting  bery  important  for  a 
feller,  she  tinks  she  must  go  and  do  ebbery  ting.  Dat's  de 
femernine.  But  den,"  continued  Joseph,  as  he  commenced 
arranging  two  cups  on  a  small  tray,  "perhaps  dey  won't  have 
much  chance  to  do  any  damage ;  dey  won't  be  togedder  much. 
But  if  dey  was,  I  wouldn't  like  to  bet  on  it ;  and  he  nothing 
but  a  clerk!  Ha,  ha  !  wouldn't  her  mudder  flop  about  some, 
eh  ?  I  guess  ;  "  and  the  old  man  put  down  his  tray  for  a 
minute,  to  indulge  in  a  hearty  chuckle  at  the  absurdity  of  the 
idea. 

"  You'll  take  tea,  Mr.  Whoppers  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Ledgeral,  as 
Joseph  entered  the  library.  "  You  won't !  Why,  what  is  your 
hurry  ?  Stop  and  take  a  cup.  You  decline  ? " 

"  Teatotally  !  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Whoppers. 

"  Well,  then,  find  that  young  man,  and  I'll  see  you  about 
him  to-morrow." 

"  He  has  given  his  address,  I  see,  in  this  letter."  I'll  find 
him,  and  I'll  tell  him  that  he  has  made  a  first-rate  shot:  he 
aimed  at  the  little  chicken,  and  hit  the  old  cock,  too.  If  he  is 
as  clever  at  the  pistol  as  he  is  at  the  epistle,  eh  ? " 

Mr.  Ledgeral  was  left  alone  in  his  study,  musing  over 
Luther's  letter.  "Very  well  expressed,  indeed,"  he  muttered, 
half  aloud;  "just  enough  to  the  point,  and  nothing  super 
fluous.  Confound  that  Whoppers,  with  his  insolence  and  his 
disgusting  puns  ;  I  have  half  a  mind  to  get  rid  of  him.  I  be 
lieve  I  will  do  so.  However,  I  cannot  part  with  him  just  yet ; " 
and  Mr.  Ledgeral  mused  for  some  time  in  silence.  The  fact 
was  he  rather  liked  the  editor  of  the  Universe,  after  all ;  if  he 
hadn't  such  a  free-and-easy  way  with  him,  he  would  have  quite 
liked  him.  He  was  certainly  not  decidedly  vulgar,  and  inso 
lence  was,  maybe,  a  hard  word  to  apply  to  what  was,  perhaps. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  H3 

nothing  but  good-natured  independence.  "  I  shall  want  a 
good  deal  of  wire-pulling,  by  and  by,  and  Whoppers  is  a  use 
ful  fellow.  No,  I  can't  part  with  him  yet ;  but  this  letter  is 
certainly  very  well  written  for  a  raw  country  youth.  How  cu 
rious  it  is  that  some  fellows  have  a  knack  of  writing — some 
thing  that  is  born  with  them.  Now  a  common  business  letter 
I  can  write  as  well  as  any  man,  but  when  it  comes  to  fine  wri 
ting,  such  as  is  expected  in  a  report  or  a  speech —  Confound 
that  punning  devil !  I  wonder  if  Dr.  Johnson  ever  did  say 
that  'a  man  who  would  make  a  pun  would  pick  a  pocket.' 
I  must  look  in  Boswell's  Life,  some  day,  and  if  I  can  find  it 
I'll  show  it  to  Whoppers.  But  this  letter  certainly  reads  very 
well.  I  must  keep  an  eye  upon  that  youngster,  he  may  be 
useful.  Yes,  decidedly ;  I'll  tell  Gainsby  to  make  room  for 
him,  and  set  him  at  something." 


Luther  returned  to  his  lodgings  with  a  lighter  step  and 
a  lighter  heart.  His  grand  act  of  humiliation  had  been  accom. 
plished,  and  he  felt  better  for  it.  He  had  shown  himself 
to  her,  not  as  a  conquering  hero,  but  as  a  broken-down 
suppliant — broken  down  not  only  in  spirit,  but  in  body  and  in 
purse.  "  He  that  humbleth  himself  shall  be  exalted,"  and  as 
Luther  had  no  one  to  exalt  him,  he  exalted  himself.  He  felt 
proud  of  the  thoroughness  and  completeness  of  his  break 
down.  The  heroics  are  often  clever  mental  gymnasts,  and 
can  "  turn  about,  and  wheel  about,  and  jump  Jim  Crow,"  to 
the  utter  amazement  of  all  sober  feeling  and  sentiment. 

He  felt  better,  too,  from  the  natural  influence  of  her  unhes 
itating  sympathy,  and  the  consequent  revivification  of  his 
deadened  hopes.  And  still  better  he  felt,  when,  on  the 
strength  of  his  brightened  prospects,  he  accepted  the  invita 
tion  of  his  landlord,  and  a  plate  of  clam  chowder  renewed 
the  vigor  of  the  fainting  flesh. 

Luther  slept  sounder  that  night  than  he  had  done  for  a 
month — slept  so  well  that  it  was  quite  late  in  the  morning 
when  he  was  awakened  by  a  knock  at  his  door,  and  the  an- 


114  NEVER  AGAIN. 

nouncement  that  a  gentleman  wanted  to  see  him.  He  hurried 
on  his  clothes,  and  descended  to  the  dingy  bar-room,  where 
he  found  the  editor  of  the  Universe  talking  with  Mr.  Bungay, 
the  landlord,  in  whom  he  had  found  an  old  acquaintance  ;  and 
standing  treat  to  a  party  of  tars,  whom  he  was  pumping  with 
all  manner  of  questions,  in  the  hope  of  picking  up  some  items 
of  news,  or  some  hints  for  a  tale. 

"And  so  you  left  the  Juliana,  because  of  a  few  cock 
roaches  ?  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers. 

"  A  few  cockroaches  !  "  indignantly  replied  the  spokesman 
of  the  group.  "Lord  bless  you,  what  do  you  call  a  few? — a 
thousand  now,  or  five  hundred  thousand  ? — or  five  hundred 
thousand  million  billion?  Why  the  roaches  were  so  thick 
that  every  step  you  took  up  and  down  the  deck  you'd  kill  a 
dozen  of  'em.  The  captain  and  mates  always  had  to  fight 
their  way  forward  with  trumpet,  spy-glass,  or  marling-spikes, 
and  when  we  relieved  the  wheel,  a  man  had  to  get  in  the  fore- 
top,  work  his  way  aft,  and  come  down  by  the  mizzen  back-stay. 
Not  a  soul  had  been  below  for  three  months,  except  one  poor 
fellow  who  tumbled  down  the  forecastle  hatch,  head  foremost, 
into  the  cockroaches.  The  cockroaches  closed  over  him. 
He  struggled  for  a  moment,  but  'twant  no  use — in  five 
minutes  his  bones  were  picked  as  clean  as  my  knife 
blade.  We  worked  round  into  Santa  Cruz,  but  the 
roaches  on  our  yard-arms  began  to  fly  off  in  clouds  to  the 
other  vessels  in  the  roadstead,  and  the  governor  pointed  the 
guns  of  the  fort  at  us,  and  ordered  us  to  clear  out,  which  we 
did,  but  when  out  we  couldn't  set  a  rag  of  sail,  or  haul  our 
yards  round,  for  the  roaches  were  so  thick  they  choked  the 
blocks,  and  devil  a  brace  or  halyard  could  be  made  to  run. 
We  floated  round  for  a  long  time,  all  hands  sleeping  in  the 
boats  that  we  kept  towing  astern,  until  I  got  tired,  and  says  I, 
'  Boys,  let's  cut  and  run  for  the  Grand  Canary,'  which  we  did 
one  night.  We  reached  Grand  Canary  in  safety,  got  across 
to  Orratavo,  in  Teneriffe,  and  took  ship  for  Cadiz." 

"Cadiz  !  my  dear  fellow,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers,  "you 
did  wrong — you  ought  to  have  sailed  for  Roachclle,  or  shipped, 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


"5 


at  least,  on  a  whaler.  I  don't  know  anybody  better  than  you 
who  could  have  taken  a  raz<r//-back.  But  I  am  much  obliged 
to  you  for  your  yarn.  It's  short,  and  it  encroaches  a  little  on 
the  fabulous,  but  it's  tough,  and  will  do  to  string  two  or  three 
'  to-be-continueds '  on.  Ah,  here  comes  my  man,"  and  Mr. 
Whoppers  turned  to  Luther,  and  cordially  shook  his  hand. 

"  You  look  surprised  at  seeing  me.  Come  with  me,  and 
I'll  tell  you  all  about  it.  I  haven't  had  my  breakfast  yet,  nor 
you  either.  Well,  we'll  go  up  to  the  corner  of  Chambers 
Street  and  Broadway.  I  guess  Delmonico  can  manage  to 
assuage  any  regrets  at  missing  our  friend  Miss  Jones  pan 
cakes  and  '  sassages'  this  morning.  Is  your  kit  all  packed  ? 
I  will  just  ask  Mr.  Bungay,  here,  to  send  it  up  to  Bleecker 
Street?" 

"  No  !  no  !  "  exclaimed  Luther.  "  I  can't  go  back  there. 
I  already  owe  Miss  Jones  for  two  weeks  board,  and  " — 

"  Pshaw !  "  interposed  Mr.  Whoppers.  "  I've  settled  all 
that.  Miss  Jones  is  dying  to  have  you  back.  She  thinks  you 
are  such  a  nice  young  man.  Do  you  know  how  I  managed 
her  ?  You  left  some  scraps  of  writing  in  your  room  when  you 
left.  She  found  them." 

"  Found  them ! "  exclaimed  Luther,  coloring  up  to  the 
roots  of  his  hair. 

"  Yes,  found  them.  Confound  her,  I  suppose  you  think  ; 
but  there  is  no  harm  done,  the  verses  had  no  name  to  them. 
Here  they  are.  Bungay,  are  you  a  judge  of  poetry?"  de 
manded  Mr.  Whoppers,  turning  to  the  landlord,  as  he  pulled 
Luther's  scribblings  from  his  pocket. 

"  I  consate  I  am,"  returned  Mr.  Bungay.  "  I  boarded  a 
crazy  poet  once,  for  six  "months — Bill  Jennings,  the  bully  poet 
of  Jarsey ;  found  him  in  beer  and  tobacco,  and  took  it  all  out 
in  rhyme." 

"  Well,  listen  to  this,  then  ;  it  isn't  bad  for  an  early  speci 
men  : 

'  'The  poet's  privilege,  fair  maid,  is  mine 

To  make  all  beauty  subject  of  my  verse, 
To  boldly  sing  thy  loveliness  divine, 

And  all  thy  charms  of  mind  and  heart  rehearse. 


Il6  NEVER   AGAIN. 

'  But  I  forbear  to  trust  my  feeble  hand 

With  theme  so  lovely,  and  to  me  so  new, 
Not  even  Moses  could  have  mapped  the  Holy  Land 
From  Pisgah's  glorious,  but  far-distant,  view. 

'  Defaulting  thus  in  laudatory  lays, 

These  flowers  I  send  thee,  brimmed  with  incense  sweet, 
To  bear  'mid  odorous  strains  of  fitting  praise, 
My  humble  service  to  thy  gentle  feet. 

'  Refuse  them  not,  because  the  poor,  dumb  creatures 

Cannot  to  thee  my  name  and  state  reveal, 

Take  them,  as  kin  to  thee  in  all  their  features, 

And  let  my  name  a  friendly  blank  conceal.' 


Utterly  dumbfounded,  Luther  listened  to  this  public  ex 
posure  of  his  poetical  sins,  this  profanation  of  his  most  tender 
and  delicate  sentiments,  this  proclamation,  in  the  reeking  bar 
room  of  a  sailor's  boarding-house,  of  a  secret  he  had  hardly 
dared  to  confess  to  himself.  And  what  made  it  more  ridic 
ulous  was  that  the  flowers  existed  only  in  his  imagination. 
A  fellow  who  could  not  pay  his  board  bill,  buying  and  sending 
flowers !  'Twas  absurd,  and  Luther  had  a  keen  appreciation 
of  the  absurd.  He  grasped  the  back  of  a  chair  to  steady  him 
self,  and  fairly  gasped  for  breath,  as  he  felt  the  surge  of  hor 
ror,  and  shame,  and  indignation,  rolling  over  him. 

"  Now,  that  I  call  pretty  fair.  Don't  you,  Bungay  ?  The 
peak  of  Pisgah  is  a  little  steep,  eh  ?  and  that  back  stretch  to 
Moses  a  little  longish  for  anything  under  a  two-forty  fancy  ; 
but  I  like  it — it  shows  bottom  as  well  as  speed.  Training 
will  tell  on  that  colt,  eh — old  hoss  ? " 

Mr.  Whoppers  prided  himself  upon  his  ability  to  adapt 
himself  in  manners  or  conversation  to  all  sorts  of  men.  Turn 
ing  to  Luther,  he  continued :  "  Now,  I  told  Miss  Jones  that 
the  '  fair  maid '  meant  her.  '  Dear  me,'  said  she.  '  Just  so,' 
said  I ;  '  it's  dear  you.'  '  Dear  me,'  said  she,  '  I'm  old  enough 
to  be  his  mother.'  'But  you  are  not  his  mother;  and  what  is 
more,  you  are  not  old  enough  to  be  his  mother.  You  might 
be  his  mother's  youngest  sister,  or  something  of  that  kind,: 
said  I ;  '  but  all  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  it.  I  don't  pre- 


NEVER   AGAIN.  117 

tend  to  say  that  the  youngster  has  fallen  absolutely  in  love 
with  you.  We  scribbling  fellows  need  a  good,  nice,  substan 
tial  peice  of  flesh  and  blood  to  rest  our  poetical  guns  on  when 
we  shoot  at  the  ideal.  He  has  just  made  a  rest  of  you,  and 
you  ought  to  rest  satisfied,  for  it's  a  very  pretty  compliment.' 
'  Well,'  said  Miss  Jones,  '  he's  a  very  nice  young  man,  and  I 
wish  he  was  back  again.'  So,  back  you  go,  Mr.  Luther.  Bun- 
gay,  you'll  send  his  kit  up  to  Bleecker  Street  ? " 

"  But,"  objected  Luther,  as  he  and  Mr.  Whoppers  directed 
their  steps  towards  Broadway,  "  I  have  no  means  of  paying 
her,  and  I  cannot,  I  will  not,  get  any  deeper  in  her  debt. 
Then,  perhaps,  I  shall  never  have  the  means  of  paying  her ; 
now  I  may  hope  to  be  able  to  settle  so  small  a  debt.  My 
friend,  Captain  Combings,  made  me  promise  him  on  this 
point ;  the  last  words  he  said  to  me,  were — '  Luther,  remember, 
debt  is  the  devil,  and,  as  an  old  writer  says,  next  to  the  grace 
of  God,  a  receipt  in  full  is  the  best  instrument  for  baffling  the 
old  boy.  It  is  not  what  you  owe  other  people,  but  it's  also 
what  you  owe  yourself.  Pay  as  you  go,  and  you  will  be  de 
livered  from  a  thousand  temptations  to  vanity  and  sin.' " 

Mr.  Whoppers  stroked  his  long,  yellow  beard,  and  looked 
askance  at  the  honest  and  open  countenance  of  the  young 
moralist.  He  saw  nothing  to  throw  a  doubt  upon  Luther's 
earnestness  and  sincerity. 

"  Your  friend,  the  Captain,  is  quite  right,"  said  Mr.  Whop 
pers  ;  "  I  can  speak  from  experience.  I  wish  I  had  had  such 
a  capital  Captain  at  my  elbow,  a  few  years  ago.  Debt  is  a  ter 
rible  thing,  but  then,  like  other  terrible  things  in  this  world 
of  profit  and  loss,  it  can't  always  be  avoided.  Best  to  take  it, 
when  it  comes,  in  a  cheerful  spirit.  It's  a  misfortune,  it  is 
true,  but  we  must  bear  up  under  it.  There  is  one  considera 
tion,"  continued  Mr.  Whoppers,  with  a  comical  twinkle  in  his 
little  ferret  eyes,  "  that  ought  to  make  it  more  easy  to  bear, 
and  that  is,  the  evil  is  shared  with  one's  creditors.  Now, 
in  that  matter  of  your  fortnight's  board,  there's  two  of  you 
concerned ;  you  and  Miss  Jones — that  is  only  one  week 
apiece." 


n8  NEVER  AGAIN. 

Luther  hardly  knew  what  to  make  of  his  companion's 
serious  tone,  and,  for  a  moment,  was  somewhat  confused  by 
this  novel  view  of  his  outstanding  liabilities. 

"  And  debt,  after  all,  is  such  a  curious  thing,  such  a  singu 
lar  thing — I  may  say,  such  a  funny  thing :  in  fact,  a  singularly 
funny  thing!  Do  you  take?  No!  Well,  it's  a  singularly 
funny  thing,  in  this :  that  it  is  the  only  thing  in  the  world  that, 
the  more  you  contract  it  the  bigger  it  grows." 

Mr.  Whoppers  stopped  short  in  his  walk,  stroked  his 
straggling  whiskers  vigorously,  and  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh  : 
"  Not  bad,  that,  eh  ? — pretty  fair,  don't  you  think  ? " 

"  Very  good,"  replied  Luther,  laughing  ;  "  I  only  hope  you 
have  not  run  into  debt  for  it." 

"  Now,  Luther,  that  is  very  ungenerous.  You  ought  to  be 
more  willing  to  give  trust.  Never  refuse  tick  to  a  joke.  Why, 
if  a  man  isn't  to  say  a  smart  thing,  or  a  wise  thing,  or  a  funny 
thing,  because  of  the  possibility  that  some  clever  forestalling 
rascal  has  been  and  said  it  before  him,  we  might  as  well 
knock  under  to  commonplace  at  once,  and  getting  down  on 
our  knees,  exclaim  :  '  Hail,  boredom  !  we  are  thy  slaves  ;  thy 
captains  and  thy  strong  men  are  too  much  for  us.  Who  may 
withstand  the  might  of  thy  Dr.  Droneys  ?  We  lick  the  dust  at 
their  feet,  and  gratefully  fill  our  mental  bellies  with  the  emp 
tiness  of  their  utterances  ! '  Of  course,  a  fellow  would  like  to 
be  always  original,  but  he  can't,  you  know,  in  these  latter  days. 
Why,  the  forestallers  have  been  at  it  for  two  thousand  years 
and  more !  Those  old  Greeks  and  Romans  were  perfectly 
outrageous.  Thank  God,  they  have  not  all  survived.  The 
burning  of  that  Alexandrian  library  was  a  blessed  thing,  and 
the  dark  ages  did  their  duty  pretty  well ;  but  there  is  one  fel 
low  I  wish  they  had  used  up,  and  that's  Horace.  Have  you 
ever  read  Horace  ?  A  few  odes,  eh  ?  Well,  don't  you  read  any 
more  of  him.  He'll  fill  your  head  with  such  a  lot  of  ideas 
and  so  many  nice  turns  of  expression,  that  when  you  come 
to  be  one  of  us — as  I  am  afraid  you  will  some  day — and  want 
to  put  your  pen  to  paper  upon  social  subjects,  you  won't  be 
able  to  tell  for  the  life  of  you  whether  to  steal  or  quote. 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


119 


But  we  were  talking  about  emptiness,  just  now.  That  reminds 
me  that  we  haven't  had  breakfast,  and  here  we  are  at  Delmon- 
ico's ;  let  us  hurry  in,  and  I  will  tell  you  how  it  has  been  ar 
ranged  for  you  to  pay  your  debts  to  Miss  Jones,  after  we  have 
ordered  our  bif-tcke  au  cresson  and  our  pomme  de  terre  a  la 
maltre  d7wtel." 

Having  given  the  waiter  his  orders,  Mr.  Whoppers  re 
sumed  the  conversation,  and,  very  much  to  the  young  man  s 
astonishment,  broached  the  subject  of  Luther's  letter  to 
Miss  Helen  Ledgeral.  He  told  Luther  of  Helen's  appli 
cation  to  her  father ;  detailed  the  conversation  that  en 
sued  ;  and  informed  him,  that  he,  Mr.  Whoppers,  had 
been  commissioned  to  hunt  Luther  up,  and  inform  him  that 
some  kind  of  a  situation  would  be  given  him,  by  which  he 
might,  at  least,  earn  enough  to  pay  his  board.  "  Mr.  Ledgeral 
wants  to  see  you,  himself,"  said  Mr.  Whoppers  ;  "  you  will  go 
up  to  his  house,  and  he  will  give  you  a  note  to  Gainsby,  his 
junior,  which  .you  will  deliver  in  Burling  Slip.  Now,  don't  let 
your  imagination  run  away  with  you — there  is  no  great  for 
tune  in  prospect.  It  will  be  small  pay,  and  hard  work,  for 
years  ;  I  know  what  a  clerk's  life  is ;  I've  led  it  myself.  If 
you  have  industry,  and  great  tenacity  of  purpose,  and  good 
luck,  you  may  stand  about  one  chance  in  five  thousand  of 
being  taken  into  partnership  by  some  firm,  and  after  that, 
about  one  chance  in  five  hundred  of  coming  out  a  rich  man. 
There  is  one  other  point  that  I  have  half  a  mind  to  give  you 
a  little  bit  of  caution  on.  I  know  you'll  resent  it,  although  I 
give  it  in  good  part ;  I  know  I  should  at  your  age." 

Luther  protested  that  he  could  not  feel  otherwise  than 
under  an  obligation  for  any  advice. 

"I  don't  know  about  that;  however,  I'll  tell  you  that  it's 
possible  that  you  may,  once  in  a  while,  see  Miss  Helen  Ledg 
eral.  Mind  you,  I  say,  once  in  a  while  only;  for  as  to  a  young 
clerk  in  the  counting-room  down  town  ever  getting  the  run 
of  the  up-town  parlors,  that  is  quite  out  of  the  possibilities. 
Now,  don't  you  go  and  get  love-sick,  and  make  a  scribbling 
spoony  of  yourself." 


120  NEVER  AGAI.Y. 

The  blood  rushed  to  Luther's  face. 

"  There,  you  need  not  say  a  word,  I  see  you  would  deny 
it ;  but  don't  I  know  who  the  '  fair  maid '  stands  for  in  your 

verses '? 

— '  It  were  all  one, 

That  you  should  love  a  bright,  particular  star 
And  think  to  wed  it.' 

I  won't  go  on  and  say  what  Shakespeare  says,  '  she  is  so  far 
above  you,'  for  I  don't  believe  it ;  but  she  is  far  removed  from 
you ;  there  is  a  golden  gulf  between  you.  You'd  have  to 
wade  through  a  sea  of  silver  to  reach  her,  and  your  legs  are 
not  full  grown  yet.  No,  my  dear  boy,  she'll  marry  some  fel 
low  with  a  settled  business,  a  good  income,  certain  social  pre 
tensions,  and  that,  too,  before  your  first  salary  as  junior  clerk 
is  doubled.  But,"  continued  Mr.  Whoppers,  looking  at  his 
watch,  "it  is  ten  o'clock;  just  the  time  to  call  on  your  new 
master.  You'll  catch  him  before  he  leaves  for  down  town. 
Go  in  boldly,  give  him  your  name,  and  tell  him  you  come  by 
my  directions.  He'll  receive  you  kindly  enough.  He  isn't  a 
bad  fellow — if  he  can't  write  a  smart  squib  or  a  leading  article, 
and  don't  appreciate  a  pun.  Try  him  for  awhile,  at  any  rate, 
and  if  he  don't  suit,  why,  I'll  see  if  I  can't  do  something  for 
you  in  our  line.  You  are  cut  out  for  one  of  us — only  I  don't 
want  to  take  the  risk  of  inoculating  you  for  the  disease.  I 
had  rather  you  should  take  it  in  the  natural  way.  A  fellow 
that  can  scribble  both  in  verse  and  prose,  at  your  age,  ought 
to  be  able,  after  a  little  training,  to  get  at  least  his  living  in 
almost  any  newspaper  office.  I'll  see  you  at  dinner  in 
Bleecker  Street.  And,  hark  ye,  the  maternal  instinct  is  strong 
in  Miss  Jones,  and  if  you  can  contrive  to  come  the  filial  affec 
tion  dodge,  I  have  no  doubt  she  will  adopt  you." 


Luther  parted  from  his  new  friend  with  an  expression  of 
thankfulness  for  the  interest  he  had  evinced  in  his  fortunes, 
and  turned  up  Broadway  on  his  way  to  Washington  Square. 
It  was  with  a  rapid  step,  but  with  a  good  deal  of  mental  hes 
itation,  that  he  gained  Waverly  Place,  and  turned  down  towards 


NEVER  AGAIN.  12 1 

the  Square.  His  active  imagination  was  at  work,  dressing  up  the 
repelling  qualities  of  the  great  merchant  in  the  most  formid 
able  proportions.  He  had  a  lurking  suspicion  that  such  a 
jaunty,  free-and-easy,  devil-me-care  kind  of  a  fellow  as  Mr. 
Whoppers,  was  not  altogether  to  be  trusted ;  and  that,  per 
haps,  Mr.  Whoppers  had  overvalued  his  influence  with  Mr. 
Ledgeral,  and  had  misconceived  his  intentions.  A  sense  of 
the  vast  social  distance  between  a  wealthy  New  York  mer 
chant,  and  an  unknown,  penniless,  country  youth,  suggested 
by  Mr.  Whoppers'  double  metaphor  of  a  golden  gulf  and  a 
silver  sea,  increased  with  every  step. 

And  what  was  he  going  to  call  upon  this  great  man  for? 
Why,  to  seek  an  employment,  by  which,  as  his  friend  Mr. 
Whoppers  had  coolly  phrased  it,  he  could  earn  enough  to  pay 
for  his  board.  Yesterday,  the  prospect  would  have  been  of 
the  brightest ;  to-day,  it  did  not  seem  quite  so  brilliant.  True, 
it  was  the  first  step  in  the  ladder  of  Fortune — it  lifted  him 
out  of  the  mud  and  dust  of  absolute  destitution ;  but  the  lad 
der  seemed  longer  than  ever,  and  the  rounds  more  numer 
ous.  Could  he  ever  climb  it  ? — he  must  climb  it.  Gaunt 
hunger  impelled  the  first  step,  but  a  still  sterner  necessity 
urged  the  effort  and  encouraged  the  desire  to  mount  to  the 
topmost  round.  He  felt  this  necessity  in  the  very  air  he 
breathed.  He  felt  it  in  the  universal  social  tone  ;  it  came 
to  him  in  the  newspapers,  in  books,  in  lectures,  and  even  in 
sermons.  The  united  voicings  of  his  age  and  his  country 
dinned  in  his  ears  the  necessity  of  wealth — enormous  wealth  ; 
not  a  moderate  modicum  of  golden  dross,  not  a  mean,  sordid, 
self-sufficiency  of  fortune,  to  be  hoarded,  and  gloated  over, 
and  worshipped  with  that  vulgar  reverence  which  is  to  be 
sought  for  in  its  highest  instances,  not  in  this  country,  but 
among  our  kind  cousins  of  England,  or  our  spirituel  friends 
of  France.  Talk  of  the  almighty  dollar !  Better  talk  of  the 
almighty  tuppence-ha'penny,  or  the  almighty  sous.  Vanity, 
pride,  ambition,  love,  taste,  charity,  philanthropy — all  coun 
selled  the  necessity  of  wealth,  and  Luther  thought  of  Young's 
line : 

— "  The  wretched  impotence  of  gold." 


122  NEVER  AGAIN. 

Wretched  impotence,  indeed ! 

— "  Why,  'tis  gold 

Which  buys  admittance  ;  oft  it  doth,  yea  and  makes 
Diana's  rangers,  false  themselves,  yield  up 
Their  deer  to  the  stand  of  the  stealer  ;  and  'tis  gold 
Which  makes  the  true  man  killed,  and  saves  the  thief; 
Nay,  sometimes  hangs  both  thief  and  true  man  :  what 
Can  it  not  do  and  undo  ?  " 

Luther  longed  for  fortune — not  with  an  envious,  mean-spirited 
longing — not  with  an  idle  longing  for  some  rich  man's  money, 
but  a  generous  longing,  a  hopeful  longing,  such  as  only  an 
American  boy  can  feel,  because  only  he  can  indulge  the  de 
sire  amid  the  glorious  possibilities,  nay,  the  probabilities,  of 
early  fruition.  "  But  what  if  I  am  doomed  to  fail !  "  ex 
claimed  Luther ;  "  thousands,  even  in  this  country,  fail  to 
command  fortune,"  and  he  went  off  into  a  train  of  thought 
which  culminated  in  a  loud  utterance  just  as  he  reached  the 
door  of  Mr.  Ledgeral's  house.  "  No,  no,"  he  energetically 
exclaimed,  with  a  flourish  of  his  hand,  " '  a  man's  a  man  for  a' 
that.'  " 

Startled  at  the  sound  of  his  own  voice,  he  looked  up, 
caught  the  wondering  eye  of  a  gentleman  passing,  and,  to 
hide  his  confusion,  sprang  briskly  up  the  steps,  and  rang  the 
bell. 

Joseph  quickly  answered  the  summons,  and,  opening  the 
door,  received  Luther  with  a  dignified  nod  of  recognition. 
"Glad  to  see  you,  sah;  hope  your  health  am  better,  sah,  den 
'twas  las'  ebening." 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  Luther.  "  I  am  quite  recovered, 
and  I  also  thank  you  for  your  attention,  last  evening.  Can  I 
see  Mr.  Ledgeral  ? " 

"  Mr.  Ledgeral,  sah ;  de  fader,  sah  ?  "  inquired  Joseph, 
with  a  gracious  grin ;  "  ah,  yes  ;  well,  he's  in  de  library. 
Walk  dis  way,  sah." 

At  the  door,  Luther  hesitated.  "  I  should  like  to  ask,"  he 
said,  in  a  lower  tone,  "  if  Miss  Ledgeral  is  well,  this  morn- 
ing?" 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


123 


"  Miss  Helen,  sah  ?  well  she  am,  I  tink.  She  eat  one 
egg  and  two  slices  ob  toast  dis  morning.  Dat's  purty  well. 
She'd  be  weller  if  she  eat  de  regular  rule  ob  two  eggs.  I  tell 
her  so  ;  but  she  tink  one  egg  purty  well." 

"  Her  mother  and  sister,  you  told  me  last  evening,  are 
not  in  town." 

"  No,  sah,  dey  is  trabbling  for  de  benefit  ob  de  health  of 
Miss  Ledgeral.  Her  health  am  below  de  eggs  altogedder. 
She  hab  a  touch  ob  de  dispipsha." 

"  Has  Miss  Helen  Ledgeral  any  other  sisters  or  brothers  ? " 
demanded  Luther. 

"  No,  sah,  no  odder  ones." 

Joseph  was  evidently  disposed  to  be  communicative,  but 
Luther  refrained  from  asking  any  more  questions,  and  the 
old  man,  pushing  open  the  library  door,  ushered  Luther  into 
the  presence  of  Mr.  Ledgeral. 

Joseph  closed  the  door.  "  I  like  dat  young  man,"  he 
muttered,  as  he  shuffled  across  the  hall  to  the  back  parlor, 
from  whence  issued  sounds  evoked  from  a  piano-forte  by 
rapid  fingers  in  industrious  practice.  "  I  like  him.  He's 
young,  and  he's  green  ;  but  he  don't  look  as  do  he  ebber 
would  hab  dat  imperient  look  like  Mister  Billy  Dugan,  or  dat 
sassy  clerk  dat  comes  up  here  sometimes  from  de  store.  Call 
me  '  old  woolly-head,'  ha  !  well,  I  nebber  ;  but  this  one  look 
good,  he  hab  agreeable  eyes,  he  hab  an  agreeable  mouf,  and 
he  hab  an  agreeable  nose.  And  if  he  only  had  an  agreeable 
fortun'  he  might  hab  my  permishun  to  snoop  round  dar  and 
see  what  he  could  do,"  and  the  speaker  jerked  his  thumb  over 
his  shoulder  in  the  direction  of  the  parlor  door.  "  I  don't 
like  dese  'scity  men.  Dey  ain't  worth  shucks.  Dey  do  berry 
well  for  de  common  scum,  but  my  little  chile  dar,  dat  I  more 
nor  half  brung  up  myself,  she  must  hab  someting  furst-rate 
— someting  that's  got  someting  in  his  cocoa-nut — eh,  honey  ? 
someting  dat  ye  call  brains,  not  jess  a  crannenum  full  ob  mush 
and  molasses.  Not  like  dat  Billy  Dugan.  He's  beginning 
to  cock  his  eye  dis  way,  I  see.  Dis  nigger  hasn't  been  a 
member  ob  'scity  more  den  half  a  centuary  widout  being 


124  NEVER  AGAIN. 

able  to  compromhend.  But  ye  can't  come  it  Billy  ;  yer  a  lunk 
head  wid  all  yer  money,  yer  a  regular  sappy,  ye  are  ;  call  me 
old  woolly-head,  eh  !  Well  I  guess  de  old  woolly-head  can 
unscrew  your  buggy-springs  for  ye — ye've  got  a  long  road  to 
ride — two  or  three  years  yet — and  I'm  afraid  ye'll  get  jolted." 

Joseph  put  his  head  into  the  parlor.  "  What  you  tink, 
Miss  Helen?  "  he  exclaimed,  addressing  the  young  girl,  who 
suspended  the  fingering  of  a  difficult  passage  to  listen  to  him. 
"  What  do  you  tink,  eh  ?  dat  young  chap  ob  de  steamboat  hab 
come  agin." 

"  To  see  me,  Joseph  ?  " 

"Wai,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  dat  was  de  real  objic',  but  de 
'stensible  objic'  was  to  see  your  farder.  I  show'd  him  into 
de  liberary." 

"  Why,  of  course,  he  did  not  come  to  see  me.  How  can 
you  be  so  stupid  as  to  think  so,  Joseph  ?  My  father  is  going 
to  give  him  a  situation  in  the  counting-room,  and  father  told 
Mr.  Whoppers  to  send  him  up  here  this  morning." 

"  Ob  course  I'se  stupid — I'se  drefful  stupid,"  replied 
Joseph,  with  a  sly  twinkle  of  intelligence  in  his  eye  that  com 
pletely  belied  the  humiliating  admission.  "  Ob  course  I  is, 
but  I  tought  dat  you  was  so  much  flustratecl  las'  ebening 
'cause  he  fainted  awah,  dat  mabbe  you  would  like  to  see  how 
well  he  got  dis  morning,  and  I  tought  dat  he  would  like  to 
tell  you  about  de  conserquence  ob  your  interseshshion  wid 
yer  farder,  and  I  tought  dat  he'd  like  to  tank  you  for  de  glass 
ob  water.  He  tank  me  berry  purlitely ;  but  I'se  drefful 
stupid.  If  he  axes  about  you  I'll  tell  him  you  is  engaged, 
and  can't  see  nobody." 

"  No,  no,  Joseph,  you  need  not  do  that.  You  can  leave 
the  parlor  door  wide  open,  and  perhaps  I  will  speak  a  word 
with  him  in  the  hall,  that  is  if  I  happen  to  see  him  come  out 
of  the  library.  You  understand,  Joseph  ? " 

"  I  tink  I  do,  Miss  Helen,  but  I'se  drefful  stupid,"  replied 
Joseph,  as,  muttering,  chuckling,  he  shuffled  himself  off  to  his 
work  in  the  butler's  pantry. 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


125 


The  interview  with  Mr.  Ledgeral  was  a  far  less  for 
midable  affair  than  Luther  had  anticipated.  He  was  re 
ceived  with  a  stiff,  but  not  wholly  ungracious  nod,  and  an 
invitation  to  take  a  seat,  while  Mr.  Ledgeral  finished  writing 
a  letter  at  which  he  was  engaged.  This  seat  was  luckily  near 
a  book-case,  and  he  amused  himself  with  poring  over  the 
titles  of  the  books  within  the  compass  of  his  eye.  He  won 
dered  whether  it  would  be  too  much  of  a  liberty  if  he  lifted 
one  of  them  from  its  place  and  opened  it.  Had  it  not  been 
for  the  gorgeously  gilt  bindings  the  temptation  to  such  an  im 
pertinent  freedom  would  perhaps  have  been  irresistible. 

Mr.  Ledgeral  finished  his  note,  and  took  a  deliberate  sur 
vey  of  his  visitor.  What  he  saw  evidently  did  not  displease 
him.  How  should  it  ?  He  saw  a  tall,  trim,  graceful  figure  ; 
he  saw  a  fine  large  head,  thick  waving  locks  of  brown  hair, 
large,  deep,  almost  bottomless  brown  eyes,  a  well-formed 
dominating  nose,  splendid  teeth,  and  a  skin  to  which  the 
amber  and  crimson  tints,  mingling  in  lustrous  harmony,  were 
rapidly  returning  under  the  influence  of  a  good  full  meal. 
Decidedly  Luther  was  good-looking — handsome  in  fact,  if  we 
compare  him  with  the  multitudes  of  lanky,  cadaverous,  lantern- 
jawed,  old-looking,  nicotinized  young  men  whom  we  meet  on 
every  side  ;  but  he  had  none  of  that  conscious  and  obtrusive 
beauty,  that  impertinent  prettiness,  that  insulting  youthfulness 
which  is  so  often  an  offence  to  middle-aged  gentlemen  who 
with  cunning  tricks  of  fence  are  desperately  warding  off  the 
blows  of  that  furious  old  fellow  of  the  scythe. 

"  Are  you  fond  of  books  ? "  abruptly  demanded  Mr.  Ledg 
eral.  "Well,  I  suppose  so,"  he  continued,  seeing  Luther 
hesitate.  "  But  it  don't  much  matter  ;  you  write  a  good  hand, 
I  see  by  this  letter,  and  the  composition  is  very  good,  the  con 
struction  and  grammar  quite  correct ;  where  have  you  been 
educated  ? " 

Thus  questioned  and  encouraged,  Luther  went  into  the 
details  of  his  school-life  and  his  studies. 

"  Do  you  know  anything  of  accounts  ? " 

"  No,  sir,  I  can't  say  I  do.     I  was  going  to  study  book- 


126  NEVER  AGAIN. 

keeping,  but  our  Latin  master  said  I  was  doing  so  well  in 
Latin  that  I  had  better  wait  until  I  had  got  a  little  further  on 
before  I  took  up  any  new  study." 

"So  you  have  studied  Latin — pray  how  far  have  you  got 
in  your  Latin  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  I  have  read  Sallust  and  Caesar's  commentaries, 
and  the  six  first  books  of  the  ^Eneid,  and  Cicero  de  Senectute, 
and  had  just  begun  on  a  few  odes  of  Horace." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  mused  in  silence  for  a  few  moments.  His 
thoughts  went  back  to  his  youthful  days,  when  he,  too,  having 
mastered  the  rudimentary  difficulties  of  the  Latin  grammar, 
and  dawdled  away  a  couple  of  years  of  preparatory  study, 
might  have  gone  on  to  the  heights  or  depths  of  an  ordinary 
Columbia  College  classical  education.  Alas  !  for  neglected 
opportunities.  Could  it  be  that  his  inability  to  write  clearly 
and  strongly  was  due  to  his  ignorance  of  Latin  and  Greek. 
Could  it  be  that  Longinus  and  Quintilian  would  have  made 
him  independent  of  that  Whoppers  ?  No !  he  knew  clever 
writers  who  had  never  been  to  college,  and  who  knew  nothing 
of  Latin  and  Greek,  and  he  knew  clever  writers  who,  having 
been  to  college,  nevertheless  knew  nothing  of  Latin  and 
Greek.  In  fact,  he  knew  that  of  nine-tenths,  yes,  ninety-nine 
hundredths,  of  our  college  graduates  not  one,  in  five  years 
after  taking  his  degree,  can  read  a  page  of  any  strange 
classic. 

"  You  will  have  but  little  opportunity,  and  no  disposition, 
to  pursue  your  classical  studies  any  further,  I  presume  ? "  said 
Mr.  Ledgeral,  in  an  inquiring  tone. 

"  I  shall  have  no  opportunity,  I  suppose,"  answered  Luther, 
despondingly ;  "but  I  have  the  disposition." 

"  In  that  case,  I  am  not  so  sure,"  replied  Mr.  Ledgeral, 
"  about  your  not  having  the  opportunity ;  a  strong  disposition 
always  makes  opportunity.  You  will  have  some  hours  of  the 
day,  and  all  your  evenings  to  yourself.  I  would  advise  you 
to  pursue  your  classical  studies,  seeing  you  have  got  such  a 
good  start.  There  is  the  famous  Dr.  Brown,  now — the  great 
Homoeopathist  and  Spiritualist, — he  is  one  of  the  most  enthu- 


NEVER  AGAIN.  127 

siatic  Latin  scholars  that  I  know.  He  reads  himself  to  sleep 
every  night  with  Seneca  or  Cicero,  he  refreshes  himself  in  his 
carriage,  between  his  visits,  with  a  page  of  Pliny,  and  the  other 
day,  calling  upon  him,  I  found  him  poring  over  the  Somnium 
Scipionis,  in  which  he  had  discovered,  as  he  said,  upon  the 
indubitable  testimony  of  the  great  Roman  orator  and  philoso 
pher,  an  authentic  and  reliable  account  of  one  of  the  earliest 
manifestations  of  the  spirit  world.  He  acquired  his  education 
under  many  difficulties  and  disadvantages,  and  owes  nothing 
to  any  college  for  a  knowledge  of  the  classics.  Don't,  how 
ever,  neglect  your  other  studies,  or  your  general  reading,  and 
don't  neglect  the  duties  of  the  place  to  which  my  partner,  Mr. 
Gainsby,  upon  the  presentation  of  this  note,  will  assign  you." 

"  I  will  do  the  best  I  can,  sir,"  said  Luther,  taking  the 
note  and  bowing  himself  out  of  the  room — the  consciousness 
of  not  having  made  a  bad  impression  giving  him  an  easy  but 
unpresuming  grace  of  manner  in  doing  so,  that  was  quite  in 
contrast  with  his  embarrassed,  awkward  entrance. 

By  a  fortunate  and  rather  singular  coincidence,  Helen 
Ledgeral  was  at  the  same  moment  coming  out  of  the  back 
parlor  with  a  roll  of  music  in  her  hand. 

Luther  bowed  in  a  shy  way,  but  resolutely  crossed  the 
hall,  determined  to  make  his  acknowledgments  to  the  young 
girl  for  her  sympathy  and  assistance. 

"  You  have  had  an  interview  with  father  ;  I  hope  that  it 
has  been  a  satisfactory  one  ? "  she  demanded. 

"  Yes,  thanks  to  your  kindness,"  replied  Luther.  "  Miss 
Ledgeral,  I  don't  know  that  I  shall  ever  have  an  opportunity 
again  of  saying  how  much  I  feel  indebted  to  you,  and  there 
fore  you  must  permit  me  to  make  my  acknowledgments  now. 
I  thank  you  very  much." 

"  Oh,  don't  call  me  Miss  Ledgeral,  I  am  not  Miss  Ledgeral, 
I  am  only  Miss  Helen ;  and  don't  thank  me,  I  did  nothing  but 
show  your  letter  to  father  and  coax  him  just  a  little.  He 
uidn't  need  it  much.  But  I  am  so  glad  you  have  got  a  place  ! 
I  hope  it  will  prove  the  first  step  to  that  fortune." 

Luther  colored  up  a  little,  but  replied  pleasantly,  "  Oh, 


J28  NEVER  AGAIN. 

you  may  laugh  about  that  fortune,  but  I  can  assure  you  that 
it  is  bound  to  come  one  of  these  days.  I  shall  worship  the 
blind  goddess  so  fervently  and  so  persistently  that  she  can't 
refuse  me  her  favors.  I  suppose,  Miss  Helen,  I  shall  never 
have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  again  ? "  continued  Luther, 
despondingly, 

"  Well,  I  suppose  not ;  that  is,  perhaps,  not  unless — unless 
Mr.  Gainsby  should  send  you  up  here  with  some  message  to 
father ;  or  unless  mother  should  take  it  into  her  head  to  ask 
you  up  here  on  Christmas  evening.  Do  you  dance  ? " 

"  I  am  very  fond  of  it,"  replied  Luther.  "  We  had  a  danc 
ing-master  come  up  from  the  city  and  give  us  lessons,  and  I 
had  the  reputation  of  being  one  of  his  best  pupils ;  but  I  am 
not  sure  that  our  country  style  will  do  here." 

"  Oh  yes,  never  fear,  almost  anything  will  do  for  us  young 
girls.  I  will  tell  mamma  that  you  can  dance  very  well.  You 
see  that  so  many  young  men  can't  dance,  or  won't  dance,  that 
we  are  sometimes  very  much  in  want  of  partners,  and  we 
younger  girls  have  to  dance  together." 

"  But  Christmas  is  a  long  way  off,"  replied  Luther,  laugh 
ing;  "and  an  invitation  that  depends  upon  your  mamma, 
whom  I  have  never  seen,  and  who  will  naturally  have  no  great 
inclination  to  see  me,  is  a  very  doubtful  affair." 

"  That  is  true,"  replied  Helen,  in  a  tone  of  affected  seri 
ousness,  at  the  same  time  shrugging  her  shoulders  and  open 
ing  her  big  gray  eyes  as  if  the  suggested  difficulty  was  in 
reality  insuperable.  The  next  moment  she  burst  into  a  low 
carolling  laugh,  and  her  golden  ringlets  danced  as  if  keeping 
time  to  the  music.  "  It  is  true  and  it  is  not  true.  You  must 
know  that  papa  is  not  the  only  one  in  this  house  who  some 
times  does  as  I  wish.  Mamma  is  always  disposed,  after  a 
little  coaxing,  to  entertain  any  suggestion  of  mine ;  besides, 
it  is  Aunt  Shippen  who  manages  all  our  small  parties,  and  I 
could  make  her  invite  the  great  Mogul." 

"  The  great  Mogul,  perhaps,"  pleasantly  replied  Luther  • 
"  but  how  about  the  little  Mogul  ? " 

"  Well,  I  admit,"  replied  Helen,  "  that  Aunt  Shippen's  taste 


NEVER  AGAIN.  129 

would  be  rather  for  the  big  Mogul,  but  I  know  what  I  can  do 
with  her,  so  I  will  say  good-bye — good-bye  until  Christmas." 

Helen  made  a  little  motion  with  her  hand.  An  older  or 
more  self-possessed  man  would  at  once  have  construed  it 
into  an  offer  to  shake  hands,  but  Luther  never  thought  of  such 
a  thing — he  never  could  have  intended  such  a  liberty,  oh  no, 
certainly  not !  The  laws,  however,  of  animal  magnetism  are 
as  powerful  as  they  are  mysterious.  Instinctively,  but  very 
gently,  his  hand  seized  her  hand,  and  as  he  touched  the  little 
soft  white  fingers  resting  in  his  grasp,  and  looked  down  into 
the  deep  gray  eyes,  he  felt  very  much  as  if  he  should  like  to 
get  down  upon  his  knees  and  open  his  heart  d  deux  battants. 
It  speaks  something  for  his  sense  of  proportion  and  propriety 
to  say  that  he  resisted  the  impulse,  swallowed  down  a  big  sob, 
and  smiling,  turned  manfully  towards  the  door,  which  Joseph 
stood  ready  to  open  for  him. 

"  You  have  heard,  Miss  Helen,"  he  exclaimed  quite  in  the 
tone  and  with  the  air  of  a  practised  gallant,  "the  Scotch 
phrase,  '  It's  a  far  cry  to  Lochaw.'  I  can  parody  it,  and  say  that, 
in  a  double  sense,  it's  a  far  cry  to  Christmas — not  only  a  far  cry, 
but  a  hearty  cry.  Good  bye," — and  the  door  closed  upon 
Luther,  who  marched  off  up  Waverley  Place,  a  walking  para 
dox,  a  breathing  incongruity,  a  living  confutation  of  the  axiom 
— that  two  things  cannot  occupy  the  same  space  at  the  same 
time :  his  heart  was  full  of  despair  and  full  of  hope.  And 
then  came  the  thought  that  in  trying  to  say  something  fine  he 
had  indulged  in  an  inappropriate  and  far-fetched  conceit,  and 
had  made  an  absurd  and  ridiculous  speech.  He  did  not 
exactly  "  writhe  him  to  and  fro,"  like  Satan,  "  when  he  first 
knew  pain,"  but  he  gave  himself  a  sharp  mental  thrust.  Fool 
ish  fellow !  But  who  has  not  at  times  suffered  from  the  same 
cause — some  flat  or  foolish  speech — some  slight  breach  of 
etiquette — something  at  the  wrong  time  or  in  the  wrong  way 
— and  the  resultant  misery  quite  equalling  that  from  a  breach 
of  the  decalogue  ?  You  never  have  ?  My  dear  sir,  allow  me 
to  congratulate  you  upon  your  want  of  sensibility,  your  self- 
conceit,  and  your  intense  mental  stolidity. 
9 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  Leader  of  Fashion — Explanation  of  American   Taste  in   Dress — 

Struggles  and  the  Art  of  Snubbing — Mr.  Boggs — A  Society-Man — 
An  Outside  Heresy — A  Sudden  Fortune — Stichen  and  Boggs. 

YOU  might  hunt  society  all  through  with  the  assistance 
of  a  full  pack  of  the  best-trained,  sharpest-sighted, 
keenest-scented  snobs  and  flunkies  to  be  found  in  social  ken 
nels  anywhere,  and  you  would  not  find  a  more  thorough 
woman  of  fashion  than  Mrs.  Ledgeral.  With  a  good  natural 
foundation  for  a  few  judicious  decorative  dexterities  of  art, 
her  face  was  generally  considered  handsome.  With  a  fine, 
full  figure,  she  was  universally  allowed  to  be  one  of  the  best 
dressers  in  her  set.  Un  pen  bruyante,  loud  ;  as  Billy  Dugan 
phrases  it,  "  devilish  loud  ; "  but  Billy,  although  formerly  one 
of  the  best  polka  dancers  in  town,  and  even  now  one  of  the 
most  authoritative  and  exemplary  leaders  of  the  German,  is 
something  of  a  blackguard,  and  very  much  of  a  bore,  so  no 
body  minds  his  slang.  Besides,  American  taste  in  dress  is 
very  tolerant  of  what  may  be  called  broad  art.  It  likes  strong 
and  decided  touches. 

The  reasons  for  this  are  evident  and  twofold.  The 
first  is  unquestionably  the  influence  of  climate  ;  for  we  see 
something  of  the  same  kind  in  the  aborigines  of  this  country. 
An  Indian  chief  not  only  puts  jewels  in  his  ears  and  around 
his  neck,  but  he  hangs  them  from  his  nose,  as  being  more 
prononc'e — more  decided — as  being  a  bolder  thrusting  of  them 
not  only  into  his  own  face,  but  into  the  face  of  all  the  world. 
Perroquets,  red-birds,  and  blue-jays  furnish  his  head-plumes 


NE VER  AGAIN.  131 

— the  gaudiest  snake-skins  and  dyed  porcupine-quills  gleam 
amid  the  folds  of  his  nether  garments,  and  when  "  en  grande 
tenue"  he  paints,  he  does  it  with  no  feeble  hand.  Broad 
masses  of  the  strongest  reds,  yellows,  and  blacks  light  up  with 
terrific  severity  the  natural  beauties  of  his  countenance. 

The  second  reason  is  as  unquestionably  the  very  great 
beauty  of  American  women.  In  a  country  where  every  tenth 
woman  is  handsome,  and  nine-tenths  of  the  remainder  pretty, 
dress  may  be  more  strictly  regarded  in  and  for  itself.  A 
Frenchwoman  is  compelled  to  study  the  becoming.  She  can 
not  afford  to  indulge  the  whims  of  a  crude  and  ill-regulated 
taste,  or  to  follow  too  rigidly  the  edicts  of  fashion.  While 
conforming  in  the  main,  she  alters,  modifies,  and  adapts  in 
detail.  She  submits  to  the  government,  but  some  slight  de 
viation  from  the  rule,  some  delicate  infraction  of  law,  some 
gentle,  but  decided  outbreak  of  independent  volition  reveals 
the  rebel  at  heart,  and  quietly  protests  against  tyranny.  It 
is  even  said  some  grand  dames  have  had  the  courage  to  sneer 
openly  at  the  great  dictator  of  the  Rue  de  la  Paix,  and  a  good 
story,  hardly  credible  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic,  is  told  of 
the  Princess  Metternich,  who,  under  the  shelter  of  high  title 
and  diplomatic  rank,  had  the  audacity  to  walk  in  and  fairly 
snub  his  autocratical  grandiosity  in  full  conclave  just  as  he 
was  raising  that  identical  glass  of  wine  to  his  lips. 

"  Jeveux  relever  les  jupes  dpanier  de  Madame  la  Princesse 
avec  des  nceuds-de-dentelles  blanches"  insisted  the  great  man. 

"  Non,  Monsieur,  vous  ne  leferez  pas  de  cette  mani'ere  :  vous 
mettrez  de  petits  cernes  des  lilas  blancs  que je pr'ef'ere"  One  can 
tell  this  story  more  readily,  inasmuch  as  no  one  will  believe 
it,  any  more  than  .  they  do  Kinglake's  stories  of  the  Elysee 
Bourbon,  on  the  night  of  the  coup  d'etat. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  American  woman  has  so  much 
beauty  and  to  spare,  that  she  can  afford 

"  To  melt  herself  away  in  flashing  bravery." 

She  alone  of  all  women  can  afford  to  sink  her  personality  in 
the  devotee  :  to  kotou,  to  genuflect,  to  get  down  and  knock 
her  fine  head,  or,  perhaps,  in  less  metaphorical  language,  to 


I32 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


trail  her  skirts  nine  times  a  day  in  the  dirt  before  the  over 
whelming  shekinah  of  the  great  Yellow  Button. 

"  Jump,"  said  the  barbarous  potentate  to  one  of  his  officers, 
on  the  top  of  a  tower ;  one  moment  for  a  salute,  and  the  next 
the  devoted  minion  clears  the  battlement  with  a  bound. 
"Jump,"  exclaims  the  supposed  potentate  of  fashion;  and 
over  goes  the  obedient  Americaine  in  a  flutter  of  devotion,  and 
down  she  comes  before  our  shrinking  gaze,  a  brilliant  mass 
of  self-abnegated  vanity. 

But  not  she  alone.  As  in  the  story  of  the  sailor's  jump 
ing  from  the  yard-arm,  it  is  "  follow  my  leader,"  until  the 
whole  sea  of  fashion  sparkles  and  foams  with  the  similarly 
be-flounced  and  be-chignoned  victims  of  a  rigid  and  griping 
conventionality. 

But  for  this  gregal  conformity  there  is,  as  I  have  said,  a 
cause  and  an  excuse.  The  American  knows  that  she  can 
dress  for  the  sake  of  dress.  If,  in  obedience  to  fashion,  she 
puts  large  patterns  on  her /<?//'/<?  figure,  or  shawls  on  her  high 
shoulders,  or  festoons  with  feathers  her  round  head  and  short 
neck,  or  carries  extra  flounces  with  an  extra  wriggle  or  with 
a  lumbering  and  unqualified  waddle,  or  if,  with  high  forehead 
and  large  features,  she  wears  her  hair  as  if  she  had  just  suc 
cessfully  ran  the  gauntlet  at  a  Comanche  scalp-dance,  she 
knows  that  her  handsome  face  will  still  look  handsome  enough, 
and  that  at  least  her  dress  is  beautiful  in,  and  of,  itself.  She 
knows  that  if  it  is  somewhat  unsuited  to  her  style,  it  is,  as 
Madame  de  Volorem  assures  her,  according  to  the  latest  plates 
from  the  Rue  Richelieu  and  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens,  and 
that  if  it  is  a  little  gaudy,  or  ostentatious,  or  pretentious,  or, 
in  fact,  flaunty,  or  if  it  is  slightly  incongruous,  in  shape,  color, 
or  material,  with  time  and  place — in  short,  if,  without  being 
positively  a  violation  of  the  more  patent  laws  of  taste,  it  indi 
cates  a  certain  jejuneness  of  thought,  and  delicately  hints  at 
a  modicum  of  mental  vulgarity,  it  is  nevertheless  a  dress  that 
Mrs.  Gruncly  (that  is  the  Mrs.  Grundy  of  our  set)  wholly 
approves  of,  and  that  not  the  most  fastidious  member  of  the 
ultramarine  demi-monde  could  laugh  at  or  call  dowdy. 


NEVER  AGAIN, 


133 


Now  Mrs.  Ledgeral  was  not  merely  a  good  dresser — more 
Americano — but  she  was  a  downright  clever  woman — clevei 
in  both  the  English  and  American  acceptation  of  the  word — 
English-clever  in  that  she  had  good  natural  talents  :  nothing 
wonderful  it  is  true,  and  no  special  gifts,  but  then  she  had,  in 
addition,  an  infinitude  of  tact,  and  tact  is  to  talent  like  a 
mug  of  hot  water  to  a  cold  razor.  Every  thin-skinned,  strong- 
bearded  man  knows  what  that  is.  Strap  and  hone  as  much 
as  you  please,  and  the  miserable  thing  won't  cut,  or  else  draws 
blood ;  but  steep  it,  give  it  a  hot  bath,  hold  its  back  in  the 
g^s,  heat  in  any  way,  and  lo !  shaving  is  a  luxury — a  delight. 
In  this  way,  Mrs.  LedgeraPs  tact  was  an  unfailing,  ever-active 
warmth  or  glow  that  kept  her  mental  razors  in  a  state  of  the 
finest  temper  and  polish.  She  was  American-clever,  too,  in  that 
she  liked  to  indulge,  when  it  was  not  too  inconveniemyin  all 
kindly  emotions.  She  might  not  fulfil  the  impossible  injunc 
tion  of  loving  her  enemies,  but  then  she  took  good  care  not  to 
hate  her  friends.  She  might  detest  their  style  of  dress,  their 
manners,  their  gait,  their  egotistical  talk,  their  affected  laugh, 
their  absurd  notions  on  the  great  band  and  cassock  question, 
their  non-appreciation  of  the  Rector  of  St.  Cyprian's,  and 
above  all  their  absurd  way  of  dressing  and  bringing  up  their 
children  ;  but  she  tried  to  do  so  as  little  as  possible.  She 
even  went  so  far  as  to  try  not  to  exaggerate  the  ages  of  her 
female  friends  ;  and  she  never  did  put  on  more  than  two  or 
three  years  at  the  utmost.  She  was  naturally  of  a  benevolent 
spirit,  and,  notwithstanding  she  patronized  St.  Luke's  Hospi 
tal,  and  was  a  member  of  the  Children's  Aid  Society,  and 
contributed  to  Home  Missions,  and  the  poor  of  the  parish, 
and  the  fund  for  aged  and  indigent  clergymen,  not  forgetting 
her  monthly  dole  of  a  dollar  on  Communion  Sunday,  she 
still,  occasionally,  indulged  herself  in  the  luxury  of  a  little 
purely  private  and  unostentatious  charity.  True,  Madame 
Volorem,  although  she  cut  and  made  cheap  enough,  had  a 
way  of  running  up  her  bills  with  the  trimmings  that  rendered 
it  almost  impossible  to  do  much  in  that  line,  still  there  was 
the  satisfaction,  and,  we  may  add,  the  sense  of  merit,  arising 


1 34  NEVER  AGAIN. 

from  a  conscious  and  continually  cultivated,  although  unfor 
tunately  unsatisfied,  desire  to  alleviate  the  misfortunes  and 
miseries  of  the  poor — a  satisfaction  and  a  sense  of  merit  which 
always  follow,  in  obedience  to  a  beautiful  law  of  nature,  by 
which  the  distance  between  the  wish  and  the  deed  is  made 
almost  infinitely  less  when  we  are  to  give  than  when  we  are 
to  receive. 

Mrs.  Ledgeral's  spirit  of  charity  was  by  no  means  confined 
to  her  own  set.  She  never  wantonly  trampled  upon  the  feel 
ings  of  anybody.  She  had  made  it  a  rule  never  to  snub  any 
one  when  it  was  not  clearly  necessary  to  her  own  social  suc 
cess.  Not  having  been  born  in  the  purple,  her  early  life  had 
been  one  of  vigorous  struggle,  some  mortifications,  but  in  the 
end  decided  success.  Emerging  from  the  unfashionable  re 
spectability  of  East  Broadway,  she  had  fought  her  way  with 
an  irresistible  gallantry  to  one  of  the  very  best  positions  on 
the  Avenue.  Of  course  she  had  to  snub  as  well  as  to  be 
snubbed ;  of  course  she  had  had  to  look  down  with  scant 
courtesy  on  some  old  friends  and  acquaintances  who  would 
persist  in  hanging  on  to  her  skirts  ;  of  course  she  had  had  to 
resort  in  more  than  one  instance  to  the  doleful  brutality  of  the 
downright  dead  cut — there  are  such  stupid  people  in  the 
world  !  but  for  the  last  dozen  years  of  her  society  life  there 
had  been  no  occasion  for  any  but  the  gentler  and  the  kinder 
emotions — no  excuse  for  any  deviation  from  a  style  of  suave 
and  honeyed  condescension.  She  had  attained  position  not 
only  in  the  higher  regions  of  upper-tendom,  but  clear  up 
among  the  ultimate  five  hundred — way  up  on  the  topmost 
Alp  of  fashion,  where  the  thin,  dry,  and  pure  air,  and  the  scanty 
but  crisp  vegetation,  are  supposed  to  produce  the  richest  social 
cream.  She  no  longer  dreaded  contact  with  any  of  the  in 
ferior  races.  She  could,  and  actually  did,  often  speak  openly, 
at  church,  or  at  the  opera,  or  at  concerts,  and  without  any 
disposition  to  shrink  from  observation  while  doing  so,  to 
merely  respectable  people,  and  more  than  once  she  had  in 
dulged  a  kindly  reminiscence  of  youthful  days  by  renewing 
an  acquaintance  that  had  been  dropped  for  twenty  years  .- 


NEVER  AGAIN.  135 

while  later  she  had  got  so  loose,  or  rather  liberal,  in  her  code 
— so  defiant  of  all  authority — that  she  had  been  known,  upon 
two  or  three  occasions,  to  invite  to  her  parties  people  not  be 
longing  to  her  own  or  any  cognate  set — people  without  the 
excuse  of  distinction  of  any  kind,  either  as  authors,  artists, 
generals,  politicians,  or  even  as  seven-ciphered  millionaires ; 
merely  good  people  with  no  better  title  to  the  compliment 
than  the  bubbling  memories  of  a  former  friendship,  or  the 
accidental  recollection  of  a  family  relationship.  In  short, 
Mrs.  Ledgeral  had  become  a  very  fashionable  lady,  bien  repandu, 
as  the  French  say,  and  she  used  her  social  power  with  a  degree 
of  moderation,  and  in  general  conducted  herself  with  a  degree 
of  independence,  that  her  friend  and  follower,  Mrs.  Struggles, 
could  not  pretend  to  imitate,  even  had  Mrs.  Struggles  had 
the  natural  disposition  to  do  so. 

If  the  word  toady  was  not  such  an  ugly,  disagreeable  word, 
it  would  not  inaptly  describe  the  relationship  of  Mrs.  Strug 
gles  to  Mrs.  Ledgeral — in  fact  her  relationship  in  general  to 
the  social  powers  that  be.  Unfortunately,  Mrs.  Struggles' 
knowledge  of  the  minuter  social  affiliations  was  slight.  She 
lacked  experience,  and  she  had  no  intuitiveness.  She  looked 
only  at  the  surface.  The  irridescence  of  the  infinitely  thin 
pellicle  of  society  dazzled  her  eyes,  and,  as  she  had  no  pene 
tration,  she  could  not,  in  and  by  herself,  suspect  the  depths ; 
so  it  not  unfrequently  happened  that  she  "  broke  through,"  or, 
in  less  metaphorical  language,  blundered  awfully.  Her  toady 
ism  and  her  superciliousness  were  sometimes  alike  misdirected. 
She  fired  away  vigorously,  right  and  left,  but  not  having  that 
discriminating  sense  of  game  which  comes  to  the  nouvelle  venue 
only  after  a  hundred  social  battues,  or  any  hereditary  knowl 
edge  of  the  natural  history  of  fashion,  she  sometimes,  with 
her  impressive  politeness,  knocked  over  a  noisy  torn-tit,  on 
the  one  hand,  and  sometimes,  with  her  insolence,  ruffled  the 
feathers  of  a  quiet  old  hen  pheasant  on  the  other.  Her  friend 
and  patroness  had  had  frequent  occasions  to  scold  her  for 
her  mistakes. 

"  I  am  quite  provoked  with  you,  my  dear  Mrs.  Struggles," 


I36  NEVER  AGAIN. 

said  Mrs.  Ledgeral,  the  morning  after  a  small  entertainment, 
as  they  sat  in  Mrs.  Ledgeral's  boudoir — the  small  room  over 
the  hall,  hung  in  blue  and  gold  ;  "  I  am  quite  provoked  with 
you  !  " 

"  Oh  !  my  dear  Mrs.  Ledgeral,  how  ?  why  ?  what  ?  "  ex 
claimed  Mrs.  Struggles,  a  look  of  deprecatory  obsequiousness 
mantling  her  round  rouged  and  befrizzled  face. 

"  Quite  provoked,"  continued  Mrs.  Ledgeral ;  "  I  don't 
know  really  that  I  can  continue  to — to" — '  patronize,'  Mrs. 
Ledgeral  was  going  to  say,  but  checked  herself  in  time — "  to 
advise — to  assist  you,  if  you  go  on  as  you  do.  You  have  no 
discrimination  ;  or  if  you  think  you  have,  you  discriminate 
badly.  I  took  special  pains  last  night  to  present  you  to  Mrs. 
Van  der  Toozle,  and  you  scarcely  spoke  two  words  to  her. 
You  were  a  great  deal  more  polite  to  those  Pushtons.  You 
think,  because  you  see  them  round  everywhere,  that  they  are 
people  of  some  influence.  Their  influence  can  do  nothing  for 
you,  my  dear.  They  have  need  of  it  all  to  keep  themselves 
afloat.  I  don't  say  but  that  they  may  be  of  some  consequence 
in  time,  for  the  Lord  only  knows  what  New  York  society  is 
coming  to, — but,  now,  you  had  better  have  one  nod  of  approval 
from  Mrs.  Van  der  Toozle  than  a  dozen  smiles  from  the 
Pushtons." 

"  What !  that  plain-looking  woman  with  the  big  nose  and 
the  maroon  satin?"  demanded  Mrs.  Struggles.  "Why,  I 
have  never  seen  her  out  anywhere,  and  she  didn't  seem  to 
know  any  one.  I  did  not  dream  that  she  was  anybody.  Is 
she  so  very  rich  ? " 

"  No,"  curtly  replied  Mrs.  Ledgeral. 

"  Is  she  very  fashionable  then  ? "  demanded  Mrs.  Strug 
gles. 

"  No,"  returned  Mrs.  Ledgeral. 

Mrs.  Struggles  thrust  her  hands  into  her  muff,  and  grasped 
her  card-case  to  suppress  her  emotion,  while  her  queer  gray 
eyes  alone-gave  expression  to  her  mingled  astonishment  and 
curiosity. 

"  She  is  not  at  all  what  you  would  call  a  fashionable 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


137 


woman,"  said  Mrs.  Ledgeral ;  "  she  entertains  but  little,  and 
goes  out  but  little  ;  but  she  is  a  Van  der  Toozle,  and  the  Van 
der  Toozles  were  Van  der  Toozles  before  the  Anglo-Saxon 
conquest  of  New  Amsterdam  and  the  defeat  of  Peter  Stuy- 
vesant  by  the  English  armada.  She  has  what  Hamilton 
Boggs  calls  'the  latent  potentiality  of  fashion.'  She  could 
spread  herself  indefinitely  any  moment  she  should  see  fit. 
There  are  a  good  many  such  women  in  New  York  society — 
either  subsided  ci-devant  fashionables,  or  women  with  hered 
itary  social  claims ;  women  of  decided  position ;  circum 
scribed  position,  it  is  true ;  but  you  must  recollect  that  it 
requires  less  money,  time,  and  labor  to  amplify  a  position  than 
it  does  to  achieve  one.  It  don't  do,  my  dear  Mrs.  Struggles, 
for  a  person  like  you  to  go  round  snubbing  everybody  whom 
you  don't  know  indiscriminately." 

"  That  is  a  fact,"  exclaimed  a  spruce,  middle-aged  young 
fellow,  as  he  quietly  slipped  into  the  half-open  door  without 
a  word  of  warning  to  the  ladies,  "  that  is  a  fact,  you  might 
snub  angels  unawares. " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Boggs,  is  that  you  ?  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  said 
Mrs.  Ledgeral. 

"  Yes  ;  I  knew  you  received  nobody  this  morning,  so,  as 
I  am  nobody,  I  thought  I  would  come  in  and  sit  with  you  a 
little  while  •  but  you  were  lecturing  Mrs.  Struggles  upon  the 
art  of  snubbing.  Go  on,  go  on,  my  dear  madam.  Mrs. 
Struggles,  don't  mind  me.  The  subject  is  interesting,  and  I 
know  no  one  who  understands  it  better  than  yourself,  or  to 
whom  a  little  advice  on  the  refinements  of  the  art  will  be  of 
more  service  than  to  Mrs.  Struggles  and  myself." 

Mr.  Boggs  seated  himself  upon  a  small  velvet  chair,  which, 
adapted  to  the  size  of  the  room,  was  rather  too  small  to  admit 
of  his  usual  graceful,  lounging  attitude.  But  still  he  contrived 
to  make  a  nice  picture  of  himself  in  his  mustard  and  molasses- 
colored  melton  morning  suit,  his  bright  -blue  cravat,  and  his 
tight  Bismarck  gloves.  His  congress-booted  feet  wide  apart, 
his  elbows  on  his  knees,  one  hand  holding  his  glossy  hat,  and 
the  other  his  little  rattan  cane,  with  its  mother-of-pearl  head, 


138  NEVER  AGAIN. 

knocking  against  his  teeth, — he  presented  a  picture  of  that 
happy  combination  of  ineffable  inanity  and  contemptuous 
insouciance,  which,  with  a  dash  of  slumbering,  slangy  vigor, 
appeals  at  once  and  overwhelmingly  to  the  fashionable  femi 
nine  heart. 

Mr.  Boggs  was  a  society-man.  He  was  not  so  young  as 
he  had  been.  You  could  see  that  in  the  nicely  brushed,  but 
somewhat  scanty  chevelure.  A  luxuriant  mustache  adorned 
his  upper  lip,  but  there  were  no  side  whiskers.  Wicked  peo 
ple  said  that  it  was  to  avoid  the  trouble  of  dyeing  that  he  kept 
his  cheeks  closely  shaved.  Decidedly,  Mr.  Boggs  was  not 
so  young  as  he  had  been ;  but,  during  all  the  flitting  years 
from  youth  to  this  stand-still  age,  he  had  always  been  a  so 
ciety-man. 

It  is  a  curious  fact,  unnoted  by  anatomists  and  embryolo- 
gists  in  relation  to  any  other  animal,  that  the  state  of  arrested 
development  in  the  society-man  always  merges  directly  into 
a  state  of  arrested  decay.  A  certain  point  once  reached,  there 
is  apparently  no  change.  Life  seems  in  this  case  to  violate 
the  laws  that  so  universally  govern  it  elsewhere.  The  flood 
of  vitality  refuses  to  ebb  ;  but  remains  at  high  tide  despite 
the  changes  of  the  sun  and  moon.  Many  instances  have  been 
known  where  a  thorough-bred  society-man,  after  reaching 
thirty-five,  has  remained  at  precisely  the  same  age  for  twenty- 
five  years,  and  even  after  that  it  sometimes  takes  the  acute 
eyes  of  a  youthful  generation  to  perceive  the  first  stria  and 
maculae  of  fossiliferous  action. 

There  are  people,  however,  who  pretend  to  doubt  whether 
the  veritable  society-man  is  found  among  us.  But  why  not  ? 
The  turbot  has  been,  and  is  now,  occasionally,  taken  in  Ameri 
can  waters.  If  this  be  true,  no  one  need  to  doubt  that  the 
society-man,  who  is  so  largely  the  product  of  European  insti 
tutions,  should  be  found  on  this  side  also.  Here  we  have  all  the 
elements  for  his  development,  except,  perhaps,  a  titled  aris 
tocracy.  We  have  counteracting  influences,  it  is  true,  but 
they  cannot  act  upon  every  individual  with  equal  force.  Some 
few  escape  and  become  society-men  in  obedience  to  Darwin's 


NEVER  AGAIN.  139 

law  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  We  have  a  wide  and  mag 
nificent  field  for  all  activities.  We  have  work  enough  for  all, 
rich  and  poor.  We  have  fortunes  to  be  made,  and  imperative 
private  and  public  duties  to  be  performed.  We  have,  it  is  to 
be  hoped, — for  on  this  point  one  must  speak  with  some  doubt, 
— a  slowly  expanding  national  and  social  sentiment ;  but  with 
all  this  we  have  the  society-man  ;  the  society-man  pure  and 
simple,  the  society-man/ar  excellence. 

One  must  not  suppose  that  by  this  term  is  meant  merely 
the  social  man  who  likes  society  for  its  own  sake ;  or  the 
worn  working-man  who  prescribes  society  to  himself  as  a 
regimen,  and  who  doses  himself  with  a  ball  or  a  dinner-party 
precisely  as  a  dyspeptic  swallows  a  pill  or  potion  ;  or  a  man 
who  is  driven  into  society  by  his  wife,  or  by  a  sense  of  duty 
to  his  family,  in  order  that  he  may  share  the  burden  and  heat 
of  the  day,  and  keep  up,  with  what  grace  he  can,  his  end  of 
the  social  load ;  or  the  man  who  goes  into  society  to  dance, 
to  sing,  to  flirt,  or  to  look  after  a  wife. 

The  society-man  proper,  in  general,  won't  dance,  can't 
sing,  don't  flirt,  at  least  to  hurt  any,  except  when  some  ex 
ceedingly  silly  woman  helps  him,  and  only  fully  intends  to 
marry  when  some  great  heiress  jumps  into  his  arms.  The 
society-man  is  his  own  final  cause ;  he  is  a  society-man  be 
cause  he  is  a  society-man. 

Now  it  may  be  doubted  by  careless  observers  whether  we 
have  the  true  society-man  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  ;  but  as 
has  been  said,  it  is  asserted  that  the  turbot  is  sometimes  found 
on  the  American  coast,  and  one  of  the  best  authorities  on 
pisiculture  goes  so  far  as  to  say  that  we  have  white-bait  here. 
If  so,  why  shouldn't  we  have  the  society-man  ? 

Hamilton  Boggs  was  a  society-man,  but,  perhaps,  not  a 
pure  and  simple  specimen.  It  would  be  doing  undoubted 
injustice  to  the  class  to  call  him  simply  a  society-man.  By  a 
strange  anomaly,  Hamilton  Boggs,  although  a  society-man, 
had  a  good  deal  of  common  sense  in  his  composition,  which 
not  all  the  glamour  of  the  great  ineffable  Bosh  had  wholly  ob 
scured.  There  was  a  philosophic  streak  running  through  his 


140 


NEVER  AC  A IX. 


mental  constitution.  He  was  an  observer,  and  a  thinker. 
He  saw  the  faults  and  follies  and  failings  of  fashionable  so 
ciety  ;  but  he  saw  what  none  of  its  votaries,  and  few  of  its 
detractors  do  see — its  utilities,  its  capacities,  its  merits,  its  ex 
cuses,  and  its  justifications.  He  saw  that  it  is  the  natural  and 
necessary  result  of  social  causes  ;  that  even  its  inanities  are 
the  legitimate  product  of  human  thought.  He  saw  that  fash 
ion  is  not  a  mere  matter  of  caprice,  changeable  at  the  will  or 
wish  of  any  individual,  however  powerful, — that  even  fashions 
of  dress,  apparently  the  result  of  mere  whim,  have  their 
intimate  and  inseparable  relations  to  former  fashions,  and  are 
governed  by  laws  founded  on  the  constitution  of  the  human 
mind,  subtle,  yet  rigid,  and  as  yet  hardly  suspected  by  scien 
tific  men.  In  short,  Boggs  had  begun  to  see  that  there  is  a 
philosophy  of  fashion,  and  he  had  formed  for  himself  certain 
theories  which  he  occasionally  ventilated  in  a  somewhat  slangy 
style. 

"  Go  on,  I  beg  of  you,  my  dear  Mrs.  Ledgeral,"  continued 
Mr.  Boggs  ;  "  there  is  no  subject  that  I  know  of  more  inter 
esting  than  the  snub,  if  properly  treated,  especially  from  the 
philanthropic  and  Christian  point  of  view.  Don't  you  think 
so,  Mrs.  Struggles  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  what  Christianity  has  to  do  with  it,"  sim 
pered  Mrs.  Struggles. 

"  Don't  you  ?  I  am  afraid  you  don't  read  your  Bible,  my 
dear  Mrs.  Struggles,  as  closely  as  you  ought.  The  good  book 
has  many  fine  examples." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Boggs,  how  absurd." 

"  There  is  one,"  continued  Mr.  Boggs,  unheeding  the  in 
terruption,  "I  have  always  admired.  Ah,  Mrs.  Struggles,  if 
you  could  only  always  imitate  that, — and  I  do  not  intend  any 
irreverence  in  alluding  to  it, — it  would  put  you  at  once  at  the 
very  head  of  society." 

"  Indeed  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Struggles  ;  "  do  tell  me  ! 
what  book?  what  chapter  ?  what  verse?  what  are  the  words  ?" 

"  '  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan.'  " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Boggs,  how  can  you  be  so  absurd  ?  " 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


141 


"  Well,  it  is  absurd  to  suppose  that  any  one  in  this  age 
could  treat  the  old  boy  so  disrespectfully,  so  we  will  go  back 
to  snubs  in  general.  The  subject  is  both  interesting  and  ab 
struse,  and  I  want  to  hear  Mrs.  Ledgeral's  exposition  of  it." 

"  You  will  get  no  exposition  of  it  from  me,"  said  Mrs.  Ledg- 
eral ;  "  I  only  ventured  a  remark  to  Mrs.  Struggles  upon  the 
impolicy  of  indiscriminate  snubbing.  If  you  want  an  analysis 
of  the  art,  I  know  no  one  who  can  make  it  better  than  your 
self,  Mr.  Boggs." 

"  You  flatter  me  ;  but,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  fancy  I  do  under 
stand  the  subject ;  and  some  day  I  am  going  to  write  an  arti 
cle  in  the  Social  Science  Journal,  for  the  enlightenment  of 
the  climbing  barbarians.  I  will  send  you  a  copy  of  it,  Mrs. 
Struggles." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  be  so  much  obliged,"  said  Mrs.  Struggles  ; 
"you  know  I  have  often  been  indebted  to  Mrs.  Ledgeral  and 
yourself  for  good  advice,  and  I  assure  you  I  am  not  above 
trying  to  learn.  I  don't  want  to  snub  too  much,  or  in  the 
wrong  place  ;  but  one  must  snub  sometimes,  you  know — there 
are  so  many  common  people  in  society — so  much  shoddy, 
you  know." 

Mr.  Boggs  stared  steadily  at  Mrs.  Struggles  for  at  least  a 
minute  and  a  half  with  an  expression  of  interest  and  curiosity 
resembling  that  which  would  undoubtedly  animate  the  coun 
tenance  of  Agassiz  over  a  nondescript  crinoid  or  ascidian. 

"  Don't  you  think  so  ? "  demanded  Mrs.  Struggles  ;  there 
are  so  many  very  common  people  with  nothing  but  money ; 
and  money,  you  know,  can  do  anything." 

Mr.  Boggs  took  another  long  steady  stare  at  Mrs.  Strug 
gles,  uttered  a  gentle  sigh,  and  shook  his  head  dubiously. 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Ledgeral,"  he  exclaimed,  "you  should 
not  allow  your  friend,  our  friend,"  with  a  slight  bow  to  Mrs. 
Struggles,  "  to  talk  in  this  way." 

"I  don't  care,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Struggles,  bristling  up; 
"  it's  true,  all  the  world  knows  it  is  true.  Look  at  the  Seltons, 
they  were  just  nobodies  until  the  old  man  made  a  million  in 
leather.  And  look  at  the  Higgletons.  Wasn't  her  father  a 


142 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


butcher  ?  And  wasn't  she  nowhere  until  Slicky  Higgleton 
made  a  fortune  by  failing  five  times  in  cotton  ?  Look  at  her 
now — who  goes  to  her  parties?  Don't  the  Macjimpseys  and 
the  Rammerdans  and  the  De  Belleverts,  and  the  Montebellos 
go  ?  Why,  at  her  last  musicale  I  saw  you,  Mr.  Boggs,  very 
industriously  stuffing  Kate  Higgleton  with  boned  turkey  and 
champagne.  You  know  that  there  is  not  a  girl  in  society  that 
gets  more  attention.  It's  all  money." 

"  An  outside  heresy,  my  dear  Mrs.  Struggles,  an  outside 
heresy,  which  I  am  sorry  to  see  that  you  have  fallen  into. 
And  besides,  you  mistake  the  question,  or  rather  confound  two 
questions.  Nothing  personal,  my  dear  Mrs.  Struggles — it  is 
characteristic  of  the  female  mind  in  general.  But  be  so  good 
as  to  keep  distinctly  this  division — first,  the  influence  of 
money  in  getting  in,  and  secondly,  the  importance  of  money 
after  you  have  got  in.  Money  is  important,  in  the  first  case, 
but  it  is  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that  it  is  omnipotent. 
There  is,  probably,  no  country  where  money — mere  money,  or 
rather  the  mere  sentimental  aura  and  emanation  of  a  vast  pile 
of  money,  has  less  power  both  in  politics  and  society  than 
here.  It  is  at  the  best  only  one  of  the  four  Bs.  It  is  neces 
sary  always  to  have  two,  and  in  most  cases  three,  of  the  four 
Bs,  to  develop  any  social  force." 

"  The  four  Bs  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Struggles.  "What  can 
they  be  ? " 

"  Oh,  it's  nothing  but  some  of  Mr.  Boggs'  nonsense,"  in 
terrupted  Mrs.  Ledgeral. 

But  Mrs.  Struggles'  curiosity  was  excited,  and  she  steadily 
looked  her  inquiry. 

"  The  four  Bs,  my  dear  Mrs.  Struggles  ?  Well,  the  four 
Bs  are  the  essentials  of  social  success.  The  four  Bs  are 
Blood,  Brains,  Brass,  and  Brads.  You  see,  in  some  cases  two 
of  them  will  do  ;  as,  for  instance,  blood  and  brads  ;  but  brads 
alone  will  never  do.  Even  brads  and  brass  is  generally  a 
failure ;  but  brads,  brass,  and  brains  is  a  very  happy  and 
irresistible  composition.  Now  I  think,  when  you  come  to 
examine  the  case  of  the  Seltons  or  the  Higgletons  or  the 


NEVER   AGAIN.  143 

Inersley's,  you  will  find  something  besides  brads — say  an 
enormous  quantity  of  brass,  and  no  small  amount  of  brains." 

"  And  by  brads,  of  course,  you  mean" — 

"Tin." 

"  Tin  ?  " 

"  Yes,  or  pewter ;  just  as  you  please  to  call  it." 

""Pshaw,  Mr.  Boggs  ;  you  mean  money." 

"  Well,  that  is  the  vulgar  name  for  it.  But  whatever  you 
call  it,  I  don't  mean  to  question  its  power  when  properly  used, 
and  I  am  going  to  give  you  an  instance  of  it.  My  friend 
Stichen  has  just  made  a  million.  I've  stepped  in  this  morn 
ing,  Mrs.  Ledgeral,  to  speak  to  you  about  it." 

"  To  me,  Mr.  Boggs  !  what  have  I  to  do  with  it  ?  I  never 
heard  of  Stichen.  I  don't  know  him." 

"  No,  and  I  don't  want  you  to  know  him  ;  but,  as  I  have 
said,  he  has  just  made  his  million.  You  see  he  has  been  for 
some  time  quietly  rolling  up  a  fortune  in  what  he  calls  the 
manufactured  linen  line ;  making  money  slowly  and  deliber 
ately,  however,  is  no  great  merit.  Thousands  do  that  without 
entitling  them  to  any  social  distinction.  But  Stichen  is  a 
genius.  He  conceived  a  grand  idea,  and  last  year  he  de 
spatched  a  diplomatic  agent  to  the  chief  of  the  Gran  Chaco. 
The  chief  was  so  pleased  with  a  present  of  a  dozen  lace-ruffled 
bosoms  for  himself  that  he  listened,  and  finally  became  con 
verted  to  the  doctrine  that  his  subjects  ought  to  wear  shirts. 
Stichen  got  the  contract  for  the  supply  of  all  the  red  rovers 
between  the  Paraguay  and  the  foot  of  the  Andes,  and  he  has 
just  sold  out  his  contract  for  a  round  million  to  a  company  of 
gentlemen  in  Chatham  Street,  to  be  called  the  Grand  South 
American  Shemial  Supply  Company.  From  this  instant 
Stichen  shuts  up  shop.  I  went  to  Stichen,  and  I  said, 
'  Stichen,  how  about  that  little  account  that  has  been  running 
on  between  us  so  long  ?  I  hear  that  you  are  going  to  shut 
up  shop.' " 

"  '  Yes,  I  am  going  to  give  up  the  manufactured  linen  busi 
ness.  I  am  not  only  going  to  shut  up  shop,  but  I  am  going  to 
sink  the  shop.  I  am  going  to  abandon  all  retail  associations.' 


144  NEVER    AGAIN. 

"'Well  Stichen,'  said  I,  'I  don't  know  that  that  is  so 
easy ,  certain  associations  stick ;  you  know  what  the  poet 
says: 

' "  You  may  break,  you  may  smash  both  the  counter  and  till, 
But  the  odor  of  retail  will  hang  round  you  still." ' 

Stichen  is,  or  rather  was,  a  vulgar  little  man,  but  he  looked 
at  me  with  an  expression  of  dignified  acuteness  which  [ 
have  never  seen  surpassed.  It  was  something  stupendous. 
It  would  have  adorned  the  visage  of  a  Chief  Justice  of  the 
Supreme  Court,  or  the  countenance  of  a  street  broker  who 
has  just  made  a  successful  turn  of  a  hundred  shares  of 
Erie. 

"  'You  have  read  Prescott's  Conquest  of  Mexico  ? '  said  he. 

"  '  I  have,'  said  I. 

" '  Well,  do  you  know  what  was  the  greatest  thing  Cortez 
did?' 

"I  hesitated. 

" '  I'll  tell  you,'  said  he  ;  '  it  was  burning  his  ships  !  I  have 
imitated  him.' 

" '  You  have  ? '  said  I. 

" '  I  have,'  said  he.  '  Standing  upon  the  shore  of  a  new 
world,  with  the  distant  mountains  of  finance  and  fashion  before 
me,  I  have  burnt  my  books.' 

"  '  And  my  account  ? '  said  I. 

"  '  Is  in  ashes,'  said  he. 

"  '  Stichen,'  said  I,  '  give  me  your  hand.  You  are  a  genius, 
if  ever  there  was  one.' 

"  Stichen  extended  his  hand  with  as  much  dignity  as  if 
he  had  been  for  twenty  years  a  wholesale  commission  mer 
chant.  Not  a  smile  on  his  face,  which  used  to  be  one  univer 
sal  smirk. 

"  '  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  you,'  said  he. 

"  '  Anything  I  can  possibly  do  for  you,  my  dear  Mr. 
Stichen,'  I  replied. 

"  '  Well,  I  want  you  to  call  and  see  my  wife.  She  wants 
some  advice  on  a  few  points  of  taste.  You  see,  my  wife  and 
I  have  always  heretofore  drawn  pretty  well  together.  When 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


145 


we  first  started  I  always  cut,  while  she  overlooked  the  sewing- 
machines,  and  now  and  then  took  a  touch  at  the  bands  and 
button-holes.  Well,  as  we  got  on,  our  circumstances  grew  a 
little  easy.  She  soared  away,  not  exactly  from  me,  but  above 
me.  She  always  was  above  me.  She  had  a  talent  for  soar 
ing,  and  so,  as  the  money  came  in,  I  found  feathers.  I  liked 
to  see  her  soar.  I  liked  to  look  up  and  see  her  floating  way 
up  in  the  realms  of  poetry,  and  music,  and  art ;  but  she  had 
to  float  all  alone.  She  had  no  society,  no  sympathy.  I  am 
wrong — she  lived  with  Bryant,  Tennyson,  and  Longfellow, 
and  a  lot  of  other  fellows.  I  wasn't  a  bit  jealous.  I  liked  it, 
I  encouraged  it.  I  said,  "  My  dear,  I  can't  satisfy  your  highest 
aspirations.  Go  to  Dr.  Holmes  and  Bayard  Taylor  and  Stod- 
dard  and  Steclman,  and  see  what  they  can  do  for  you."  Well, 
she  went  to  those  fellows  and  they  did  her  good ;  but  now  that 
I  have  got  plenty  of  money  she  is  going  in  for  fashion,  and  I 
am  going  in  for  finance.  She  will  want  a  little  advice  in  the 
one  case,  which  I  will  be  willing  to  return  in  the  other.  Go 
and  see  her.  You  will  find  her  grateful  for  any  sugges 
tions.'  " 

"  And  did  you  go  ?  "  exclaimed  both  ladies  in  a  breath, 
as  Mr.  Boggs  paused  in  his  narrative. 

Mr.  Boggs  nodded  his  head. 

"  Some  vulgar,  dowdy  thing  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Struggles. 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Boggs.  "  Lacks  style  somewhat,  and 
don't  know  how  to  dress  yet ;  but  she  has  given  unlimited 
orders  to  Madame  Volorem,  and  I  shall  take  good  care  to  tone 
her  down  a  little.  As  to  her  house,  nothing  can  be  finer.  I 
arrived  just  in  time  to  save  her  dining-room  from  a  dingy 
maroon.  '  Don't  do  it,'  said  I ;  '  never  mind  what  Magnet 
says ;  that  thing  is  done  to  death,  and  it  weighs  upon  the  di 
gestion.  Give  us  something  light  and  lively  in  the  eating 
way;  and  so  a  soft  orange,  panelled  with  a  delicate  purple, 
and  half-a-dozen  pictures  of  game,  fruit,  and  flowers,  will  shed 
a  sparkle  on  the  festive  scene.'  No,  she  is  not  vulgar — that  is, 
she  is  not  as  vulgar  as  many  of  our  folks ;  as  Mrs.  De  Vine  or 
as  Mrs.  Fain,  for  instance." 

10 


I46  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Boggs  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Struggles,  "  how  can 
you  call  Mrs.  De  Vine  and  Mrs.  Fain  vulgar  ?  Why,  they 
are  two  of  the  most  fashionable  women  in  society." 

""  I  do  not  say  that  they  are  not  fashionable,"  replied  Mr. 
Boggs  ;  "  I  only  said  they  are  vulgar — mentally  vulgar,  I  mean. 
Did  you  ever  hear  either  of  them  talk  five  minutes  without  in 
troducing  that  dinner  to  the  Marquis,  or  that  beautiful  ball  at 
the  Doria  palace,  when  '  young  Odiscalchi  asked  to  be  intro 
duced  to  Tilly,  and  came  up  to  her,  and  said,  "  Miss  Fain,  will 
you  do  me  the  honor  to  dance  with  me  in  the  next  set  ? "  in 
just  as  good  English  as  possible,  and  without  the  least  accent. 
But  Tilly  was  engaged  to  the  handsome  Cenci,  and  she  was 
so  sorry,  and  I  nudged  Tilly,  and  says  I,  "  Speak  I-talian,"  and 
Tilly  said,  "  Ah  !  tante  grazie  per  fa/to  onore  !  ma  davvero  !  me  ne 
duolc  ;  non  mi'epossibilediaccettareronoreroleinmto  ;  sonogid  im- 
pegnata per  tutte  le altre danze."  And  young  Odiscalchi  smiled 
as  pleasantly  as  possible,  and  he  turned  to  me  and  said, 
"  Mrs.  Fain,  your  daughter  speaks  Italian  charmingly.  Our 
old  phrase,  '  Lingua  Toscana  in  bocca  Romanaj  will  have  to  be 
changed  into '  bocca  Americana.1 "  And  Tilly  looked  so  pleased, 
but  didn't  say  anything ;  and  I  nudged  her  again  and  whis 
pered  to  her  that  she  ought  to  thank  him  for  such  a  compli 
ment,  but  she  wouldn't,  and  I  had  to  do  it  in  English. ' ' 

Mr.  Boggs  was  something  of  a  mimic,  and  both  ladies 
laughed  at  the  close  imitation. 

"  Well,  now,"  resumed  Mr.  Boggs,  "  Mrs.  Stichen  is  not 
vulgar,  for  there  is  no  vulgarity  without  pretension,  or  rather 
pretentiousness,  and  she  is  not  ignorant — that  is,  not  as  ig 
norant  as  the  Misses  Wadkins,  or  Sally  Chorly.  She  knows 
who  painted  Mr.  Dusseldorf  s  pictures,  and  when  I  spoke  of 
Lady  Geraldine's  courtship  she  didn't  mistake  it  for  one  of 
Moore's  melodies,  or  think  I  meant  Jimmy  Doolittle's  spoony 
bout  at  Milan  and  Cadenabia  with  that  fast  Irish  peeress." 

"  But,  Mr.  Boggs,"  interposed  Mrs.  Struggles,  "  how  can 
you  call  the  Misses  Wadkins  ignorant  ?  Why  they  know 
everybody  in  town ;  they  play  and  sing ;  they  have  been  to 
Paris,  and  they  speak  French  beautifully,  and  they  draw !  oh 


NEVER  AGAIN.  147 

yes,  they  draw  wonderfully.  You  should  see  Julia's  drawing 
of  the  Venice  de  Medici." 

"  The  Venice  de  what !  "  demanded  Mr.  Boggs. 

"  The  famous  statue." 

"Never  heard  of  it." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Boggs  !  never  heard  of  the  Venice  de  Medici  ? " 

"  Never  ;  I  have  heard  of  the  Florence  di  Medici,  but  never 
of  the  Venice." 

Mrs.  Ledgeral  shook  her  finger  at  Mr.  Boggs. 

"  Well,  I  admit,"  he  continued,  "  that  the  Wadkins  know 
a  good  deal ;  they  know  the  Bois  thoroughly,  and  have  been 
presented  at  the  Tuilleries,  and  danced  the  cotillion  half-a- 
dozen  times  apiece  with  the  Prince  Vascoutch  and  the  Mar 
quis  de  la  Roche  Gammon.  1  don't  know  but  I  am  wrong  in 
calling  them  ignorant.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  very  useless 
knowledge  in  the  world,  but  perhaps  it  is  just  as  well  to  have 
a  kind  of  an  idea  that  Childe  Harold  wasn't  written  by  Shake 
speare  ;  and  that  Browning  the  poet  and  Browning  the  butcher 
in  Clinton  market,  where  pa  buys  his  beef,  are  two  different 
persons. 

"  But,  as  I  was  saying,  Mrs.  Stichen  is  not  ignorant ;  I  have 
examined  her.  '  Let  us  see,'  said  I,  '  Mrs.  Stichen,  what  you 
know.  Do  you  know  that  the  square  of  the  hypothenuse  of  a 
right-angled  triangle  equals  the  sum  of  the  squares  of  the  two 
sides  ? '  'I  don't,'  said  she,  '  and  I  didn't  know  that  it  was 
necessary  to  know  it.  I  never  supposed  there  were  any 
squares  or  triangles  in  society.  I  thought  there  were  nothing 
but  circles.'  And  she  looked  so  demure  you  would  never 
have  thought — well,  I  can't  say  that  butter  wouldn't  melt  in 
her  mouth,  for  she  has  just  that  ripe,  warm,  luscious-looking 
nouth  that  you'd  think  butter  would  melt  in  it,  and  that  very 
quickly. 

"  '  Mrs.  Stichen,'  said  I,  '  you'll  do.  I'll  be  hanged  if  I 
don't  take  you  up  in  earnest.'  And  now,  my  dear  Mrs.  Ledg 
eral,  that  is  just  what  I  have  come  about  this  morning.  I 
want  to  know,  if  Mrs.  Stichen  calls  upon  you,  whether  you  will 
return  her  call  and  put  her  name  upon  your  visiting-list.  You 


I48  NEVER  AGAIN 

see  Stichen  is  a  sensible  fellow,  and  he  has  promised  never  to 
show  himself.  Mrs.  Stichen  has  a  good  voice,  and  I  am 
going  to  work  the  musical  dodge  for  her.  She  wants  a  little 
training,  but  Albetus  says,  that  with  her  great  natural  capa 
bility,  he  can  put  her  in  good  order  for  at  least  two  or  three 
songs  in  about  three  months.  Her  voice  is  a  rich  round  con 
tralto  ;  none  of  your  squeaky  sopranos." 

"Well,  suppose  I  should  give  a  musicale,  Mr.  Boggs,  and 
bring  her  out  for  you  ? " 

"  Thank  you,  but  that  won't  do,"  replied  Mr.  Boggs.  "  I 
am  going  to  do  the  fair  thing  by  her.  I  have  promised  Stichen, 
and  I  mean  to  keep  my  word.  I  am  not  going  to  have 
her  get  into  the  musical  notch  and  stick  there.  I  am  not  going 
to  allow  her  to  go  into  society  to  sing  for  her  patrons.  I  am 
going  to  fix  it  so  that,  being  in  society,  she  will  occasionally 
sing  to  gratify  her  friends.  There  is  a  difference,  you  know, 
and  if  Mrs.  Ledgeral  will  promise  to  return  her  call,  that  is  all 
I  ask  just  at  present." 

"  With  great  pleasure,  Mr.  Boggs,"  replied  Mrs.  Ledgeral. 
"  You  somewhat  pique  my  curiosity,  and,  as  you  say  she  is 
presentable,  I  shan't  mind  introducing  her  to  Aunt  Shippen, 
and  perhaps  to  Mrs.  De  Billivert." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Ledgeral,  you  are  very  kind.  Those 
two  will  do,  but  not  another  one  if  you  have  any  regard  for 
me.  I  don't  want  to  sprawl  her  all  over  society  at  once. 
She'd  spread  out  too  thin.  Better  wait  a  little.  Society  is  a 
monster  that  must  be  delicately  tickled  into  an  appetite  for  a 
fresh  morsel.  It  is  a  whirlpool,  and  it  is  better  to  be  sucked 
in  than  to  be  pushed  in.  You  glide  into  the  very  vortex  more 
gently  and  surely." 

"  Well,  just  as  you  say,  Mr.  Boggs.  You  are  a  first-rate 
engineer,  and  can  manage  your,  or  anybody's,  social  loco 
motive  as  well  as  any  one  I  know.  I  shall  watch  your  opera 
tions  with  interest,  and  in- the  meantime  you  may  be  sure  that 
I  shall  return  her  call." 

( '  Well,  then,  your  reception-day  next  week  will  see  about 
as  pretty  a  pair  of  brown  bays  at  your  door  as  you  can  find  in 


NEVER  AGAIN.  149 

town.  I  selected  them,  with  clarence,  coachman  and  call-boy, 
all  myself, — carte  blanche,  you  know,  from  Stichen.  I  shall 
be  on  hand.  Au  revoir"  and  Mr.  Boggs  lounged  from  the 
room. 

"  And  do  you  really  mean  to  take  up  this  Mrs.  Stichen, 
my  dear  Mrs.  Ledgeral  ? "  demanded  Mrs.  Struggles. 

It  is  characteristic  of  the  struggling  woman  that,  while 
clinging  with  desperate  clutch  to  the  middle  rounds  of  the 
ladder  of  fashion,  she  has  the  capacity  of  directing  her  vision 
with  equal  intensity  in  directly  opposite  directions  above  and 
below  ;  one  eye,  beaming  with  hope  and  ambition,  turns  prayer 
fully  upward,  with  its  tears  of  faith  and  devotion, — the  veri 
table  pearls  of  social  piety, — glistening  in  the  effulgence  of 
the  great  ineffable  Bosh  ;  the  other,  gleaming  with  scorn  and 
jealousy,  flashes  darkly  downward  upon  the  sacrilegious 
wretch  who  has  dared  to  raise  herself  out  of  the  mud  and 
mire  of  common  vulgar  respectability  by  so  much  as  a  single 
step  on  the  first  fashionable  rung. 

"  If  I  were  you,  my  dear  Mrs.  Ledgeral,  I  don't  think 
that  I  would  notice  her.  I  don't  care  if  she  is  accomplished 
and  handsome  and  well-mannered  and  lady-like,  she  is  very 
low ;  and  as  for  her  music,  it  would  be  a  great  deal  better  to 
get  the  professionals  to  sing  for  you — you  know  you  can  do 
that  for  nothing,  very  often,  if  you  only  flatter  them  a  little — 
than  to  receive  such  people.  I  think  it  very  wrong  that  peo 
ple  in  society  should  be  called  upon  to  compromise  them 
selves  with  all  these  common  people." 

"  Compromise  !  Mrs.  Struggles,  "  demanded  Mrs.  Ledg 
eral  ;  "  what  do  you  mean  by  that  ? " 

"Oh,  I  don't  mean  that  you  could  be  compromised," 
replied  Mrs.  Struggles ;  "you  can  do  anything,  but  I  don't  see 
the  use  of  really  taking  up  such  a  woman,  and  bringing  her 
right  in.  It  is  hardly  fair.  Why  look  at  Mrs.  Highton.  She 
went  through  six  years  of  snubs  before  she  could  do  anything 
worth  speaking  of.  Lord !  just  to  think  of  what  that  woman 
endured  at  Sharon  and  Newport.  And  now  Mr.  Boggs  wants 
to  jump  this  Mrs.  Stichen  right  over  everything.  I  don't  see 


I5o  NEVER   AGAIN. 

the  use,  my  dear  Mrs.  Ledgeral,  of  taking  her  up.  There 
are  getting  to  be  so  many  common  people  in  society  now — so 
much  shoddy.  Why  should  you  do  it  ? " 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Ledgeral;  "pour 
nfamuser  and  to  oblige  Mr.  Boggs.  Besides,  Boggs  is  a 
pretty  good  judge  of  music,  and  he  says  she  has  a  good  voice. 
Now,  with  good  looks,  a  good  voice,  plenty  of  money,  and 
Mr.  Boggs  to  engineer  matters  for  her,  ten  chances  to  one 
that  in  a  season  or  two  she  takes  a  position." 

"  She  may  spread  herself  among  the  upper  ten  thousand," 
replied  Mrs.  Struggles,  in  an  anxious  tone,  "but  do  you  really 
think,  my  dear  Mrs.  Ledgeral,  that  she  will  make  her  way 
into  the  highest  circle — the  ultimate  five  hundred — your  set, 
and,  thanks  to  your  kindness,  I  may  say,  our  set  ? " 

"  Perhaps,  that  is  if  she  takes  a  turn  or  two  at  Sharon  and 
Newport ;  quietly  and  modestly  attacks  society  in  detail ; 
don't  invite  a  combination  against  her  by  running  after  the 
men  too  much  at  first,  and  don't  try  to  give  a  grand  party  too 
soon,  so  as  to  allow  society  to  get  her  down  into  one  of  those 
awful  social  ruts  that  it  is  so  difficult  to  get  out  of.  But 
Hamilton  Boggs  knows  all  the  pit-falls,  and  can  pull  all  the 
strings.  She's  lucky  in  having  such  an  adviser.  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  he  should  make  her  a  downright  rage  before  he 
gets  through  with  her.  You  recollect  what  a  wonderful  belle 
his  sister  was  for  two  seasons  ;  but  I  forget,  you  could  not 
have  known  anything  about  it,  for  that  was  five  or  six  years 
ago.  Well,  no  girl  ever  made  more  noise.  Twice  a  week,  a 
serenade  that  disturbed  the  whole  neighborhood,  and  the 
biggest  anonymous  bouquets  ever  known.  She  was  the  talk 
of  our  set.  Two  or  three  times  copies  of  verses  got  into  the 
Herald,  and  Boggs  threatened  to  flog  the  editor.  He  never 
did,  but  I  know  that  he  has  a  knack  at  rhymes,  and  I  know 
that  he  paid  Himmerman  three  thousand  dollars  for  music, 
and  only  the  other  day  Mackenzie,  the  florist,  told  me  that 
Boggs  owed  three  hundred  dollars  balance  on  an  old  account. 
The  second  season  there  was  a  dead  set  at  her,  but  Tim  Bur 
ling  came  in  and  carried  her  off  with  his  three  millions. 
Oh,  Boggs  can  do  the  tiling  if  any  one  can." 


NEVER  AGAIN.  i$i 

"Well,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Struggles,  with  a  sigh,  "I  shall 
be  here  on  Tuesday,  and  you  must  introduce  me." 

Mrs.  Struggles  took  her  leave,  and  was  giving  orders  to 
her  coachman  to  drive  home,  when  suddenly  she  changed  her 
mind.  "  What  if  I  call  at  once  ? "  said  she.  "  I'll  do  it !  I 
can  say  that  my  friend  Boggs  had  so  much  interested  me  in 
her  that  I  had  resolved  not  to  stand  upon  ceremony." 

It  is  best,  thought  Mrs.  Struggles,  when  you  can't  keep 
people  out,  to  make  a  flourish  of  cordiality,  and  rush  at  once 
to  open  the  door.  A  happy  thought,  original  and  profound, 
wherein  lies  a  hint  to  prime  ministers,  legislators,  and  poli 
ticians  of  every  degree. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Slippery  and  Sloppy — A  Street  Adventure — The  Old  Frenchwoman — 
Timely  Aid — Luther's  Gallantry — A  Vista  of  Unlimited  French 
and  German. 

IT  was  the  last  half  hour  of  a  chill  winter's  day.  A  leaden 
sky  above ;  a  sluggy,  dingy-white  carpet  of  snow  below  ; 
no  animation,  no  buoyancy  in  the  moisture-laden  air, — anon,  a 
perceptible  decrease  of  temperature.  The  fitful  blasts  that 
whistled  round  the  corners  of  the  streets  opening  to  the 
North  River  became  more  and  more  aciculated.  The  hurry 
ing  crowds  in  Broadway  drew  their  coats  and  cloaks  closer 
as  they  passed  the  exposed  crossings. 

His  day's  duties  done,  Luther  with  rather  deliberate  step 
was  wending  his  way  to  Broome  Street ;  there  was  nothing 
so  very  inviting  in  Miss  Jones'  mahogany  and  horse-hair- 
furnitured  parlors,  and  the  dark,  dumb  anthracite  stove,  that 
he  should  quicken  his  steps  beyond  the  rate  dictated  by  the 
natural  impulses  of  a  healthy  circulation  and  a  vigorous 
innervation. 

He  paused  for  a  few  moments  at  two  or  three  of  the  shop 
windows,  and  his  fancy  strode  round  and  round  the  world,  on 
the  hints  of  some  silks  and  satins,  one  or  two  cashmere 
shawls,  some  articles  of  bijoutry  and  virtu.  He  lingered  at 
some  of  the  crossings  and  looked  down  the  bleak  streets  and 
across  the  long  line  of  closely-packed  spars  and  masts  and 
steam  funnels — in  his  mind  not  merely  the  iron  and  wooden 
instruments  and  adjuncts  of  sordid  trade,  but  the  symbols  of  the 
richest  romance ;  the  dashes  and  exclamation  points  emphasiz 
ing  the  boldest  enterprise,  the  wildest  and  most  fascinating 
adventure.  He  stopped  on  the  corner  of  Franklin  Street,  and, 


NEVER  AGAIN.  153 

in  the  instinctive  bravado  of  youthful  hardihood,  turned  his 
ruddy  cheeks  to  the  blast.  It  was  no  mere  wind  from  Hobo- 
ken  or  Weehawken  that  saluted  him,  as  it  did  the  thousands 
of  passers.  It  was  the  very  breath  of  the  pole,  and  bore  on 
its  chill  wings  the  grumblings  of  the  grinding  ice-fields,  the 
crushings  of  colliding  bergs,  the  cracklings  of  the  aurora  and 
the  last  sighs  of  Franklin  and  his  men. 

At  this  moment  he  was  sensible  of  a  curious  phenomenon  ; 
it  was  growing  colder,  and  yet  it  seemed  to  be  growing 
warmer.  As  the  sloppy  slush  of  the  streets  began  to  freeze, 
a  pleasant  warmth  was  radiated  from  the  hardening  mass. 
Heat,  latent  in  the  liquid,  streamed  out  from  the  hold  of  the 
griping  crystals,  and  diffused  itself  through  the  chill  air.  He 
had  often  noticed  the  same  thing  before,  and  thoroughly  com 
prehended  the  rationale  of  the  phenomenon,  but  the  fact  had 
never  struck  him  so  forcibly.  It  suggested  itself  now  as  a 
good  illustration  of  the  principle  of  compensation,  and  he 
thought  of  the  story  of  the  old  soldier  reproving  his  comrades, 
grumbling  around  their  Russian  bivouac,  with  his  nous  avions 
chaud  en  Egypte  il y  a  vingt  ans. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  exclaimed  Luther,  forgetting  the  crowds,  and 
suddenly  speaking  in  quite  a  loud  voice  ;  "  Yes,  //  y  a  tou- 
jours  compensation,  man  ami." 

"Qitotf  Que  dites  vous!"  suddenly  demanded  a  female 
voice  at  his  side. 

The  speaker  was  a  little  withered  woman  of  some  fifty  or 
fifty-five  years  of  age.  She  was  shabbily,  but  still  sufficiently, 
clad,  in  an  old  black  silk  cloak ;  streaked  and  frayed  and 
faded  ;  and  with  here  and  there  a  downright  hole  or  rent 
through  which  peeped  the  dingy  wadding.  On  her  head  she 
wore  an  old  velvet  hat,  evidently  dating  from  the  days  when, 
in  the  matter  of  female  head-gear,  a  liberal  and  generous 
fashion  prevailed,  and  exhibiting  in  the  crushed  and  seamed 
pile  the  indications  of  ancient  splendor,  but  guiltless  at  the 
moment  of  any  effort  at  adornment, — not  a  speck  of  feather, 
flower  or  ribbon,  except  the  crumpled  snuff-tinted  strings  that 
confined  it.  A  pair  of  thick  india-rubber  shoes  protected  her 


!54  NEVER 

feet,  and  added  an  appearance  of  comfort  if  not  of  elegance 
to  her  toilet — an  appearance  that  was  heightened  by  a  warm 
but  somewhat  mussy  victorine  of  cat-skin  that  encircled  her 
neck,  each  particular  hair  of  which,  standing  out  in  its  own 
particular  way,  seemed  still  to  speak  of  the  desperate  battle 
with  brutal  bull  terriers  in  which  poor  grimalkin  had  lost 
her  life. 

She  stretched  out  from  beneath  her  cloak  a  small  and  del 
icately  formed  hand,  covered  with  a  new  and  nicely-fitting 
glove,  of  a  pure  pearl  tint,  and  touched  Luther  on  the  arm. 
There  was  still  light  enough  to  reveal  the  incongruity.  So 
shabby  and  forlorn,  and  yetganti  d  merveille  in  Duprez's  best ! 
What  could  it  mean  ?  It  could  not  be  purely  accidental. 
No,  in  some  way  it  indicated  an  injection  of  sentiment  into 
the  overlying  shales  and  conglomerates  of  real  life,  or,  per 
haps,  better,  an  outcrop  of  feeling  from  mysterious  psycholog 
ical  depths.  Luther  had  been  listening  to  a  popular  lecture 
on  geology  the  evening  before,  and  as  the  metaphor  flashed 
upon  him,  he  chuckled  slightly  with  the  usual  pleasurable 
pangs  of  figurative  parturition. 

The  little  hand  flashed  for  a  moment  in  Luther's  sight, 
pressed  his  arm  with  a  finger's  weight  for  an  instant,  and  then 
disappeared  like  a  shooting  star  in  the  clouds  of  the  old  black 
cloak. 

"  Quoif"  she  exclaimed.  "  Que  dites  vous?  Vous  ties 
Franraist  Non,  non—je  me  trompe,  pardon,  pardon.  Que 
je  suis  btte^  and  she  turned  away  suddenly,  muttering  to  her 
self,  and  walked  off  with  rapid,  but  somewhat  uncertain  step. 

Luther,  a  little  startled  and  a  good  deal  amused,  had  no 
time  to  frame  a  reply,  but  as  she  was  going  up  Broadway  he 
resumed  his  walk,  and  followed  her. 

The  slippery-sloppy  slush  had  by  this  time  changed  into 
a  rough  but  still  more  slippery  ice,  compelling  even  the  firmest- 
footed  pedestrians  to  pick  their  way  with  care.  And  now  the 
big  india-rubber  shoes  stood  the  little  old  woman  in  good 
stead.  Without  them  she  could  hardly  have  gone  half-a-dozen 
yards  from  the  spot  where  she  had  accosted  Luther,  but  with 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


155 


them  she  had  successfully  achieved  a  block  and  more,  when 
suddenly  even  their  assistance  proved  insufficient.  She  slip 
ped,  caught  her  balance  for  an  instant,  slipped  again,  and  fell 
heavily  her  full  length.  A  portly  German  was  a  little  ahea-1 
at  this  instant.  He  glanced  backward,  but  he  was  under  ^oo 
much  headway  to  stop ;  besides,  she  was  nothing  but  a  woman, 
somebody  else  could  help  her  up,  and,  more  than  that,  per 
haps  she  might  hot  want  anybody  to  help  her  up.  A  French 
man  was  just  passing.  He,  too,  could  not  stop.  It  is  true 
she  was  a  woman,  but  she  was  no  acquaintance,  and  moreover 
she  was  a  shabby  woman,  and  neither  a  young  woman  nor  a 
pretty  woman  ;  but,  with  true  French  politeness,  he  instinct 
ively  touched  his  hat.  Luckily  the  assistance  of  these  gen 
tlemen  was  not  necessary,  as  Luther  was  but  a  step  or  two 
behind,  and  rushing  up,  raised  the  little  woman  from  the 
ground. 

"  You  are  not  much  hurt  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  No  ;  I  have  not  broke  the  back  or  the  neck — mats — 
the  foot — the  what  you  call  the  ankle.  Well,  I  am  much 
under  some  obligation  to  you.  Good-bye,  sir,"  and  the  old 
woman  paused  and  examined  her  gloves,  soiled  and  rent  by 
their  violent  contact  with  the  rough  pavement. 

A  flush  of  anger,  almost  the  only  emotion  she  had  exhib 
ited,  mantled  her  face,  and  Luther  heard  a  slight  hiss  and  a 
prolonged  but  almost  inaudible  roll  of  double  r-r's  deep  down 
in  her  throat. 

She  turned,  took  a  step  or  two,  but  evidently  with  so  much 
difficulty,  that  Luther  was  again  by  her  side. 

"  You  had  better  let  me  assist  you,"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  the 
walking  is  very  bad,  very  dangerous.  Here,  take  my  arm. 
Have  you  far  to  go  ?  " 

The  old  woman  threw  her  head  back,  and  fastened  a  pair 
of  piercing  black  eyes  upon  Luther's  face. 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  me  before  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  Never,"  replied  Luther. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  Madame  Steignitz  ?"  she  demanded. 

"  I  never  have  had  that  pleasure,"  answered  Luther. 


156  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"  And  you  offer  your  arm  to  a  poor  old  woman  like  me, — • 
in  Broadway, — and  the  daylight  not  all  gone  away  ?  Me  ! 
poor,  old,  sale,  mal  habill'ee — what  you  call  shabby  !  Aliens, 
— let  us  go,"  and  the  old  woman  put  her  arm  within  Luther's. 

"Comme  il  est  brave,  ce  gar $on"  she  muttered.  "Ah! 
comme  il  est  fort  aussi"  she  continued,  as  Luther,  with  vigor 
ous  arm,  supported  her  over  a  particularly  difficult  and  slip 
pery  piece  of  pavement. 

Luther  became  sensible  that  a  good  many  curious  and 
wondering  glances  were  directed  at  him  and  his  companion. 
But  what  of  it ;  why  should  he  care  ?  Even  when  he  saw,  ad 
vancing  to  meet  him,  a  fellow-member  of  Miss  Jones'  family, 
— a  young  bank-clerk,  with  whom  he  was  on  familiar  terms, — 
he  had  no  disposition  to  shrink  from  the  encounter. 

"  Hollo  !  old  fellow,"  exclaimed  his  acquaintance,  "  what's 
up  ?  Just  landed,  eh  ? "  Catching  sight  at  this  moment  of 
the  old  woman's  face,  he  checked  his  chaff  in  mid-volume, 
but,  as  he  passed,  he  made  a  comical  grimace,  gave  Luther  a 
mocking  salutation,  and,  as  he  pretended  to  raise  his  hat, 
touched  his  nose  with  his  thumb,  and  flourished  his  fingers 
in  the  air. 

The  keen  black  eyes  were  fastened  upon  Luther's  face. 

He  could  not  help  coloring  up  a  little,  but  it  was  more 
with  anger  than  with  shame.  Why  should  he  feel  ashamed  ? 
Confound  the  fellow !  Luther  never  did  really  like  him. 
"  Let  him  laugh.  Giving  one's  arm  to  a  poor  old  woman 
isn't  wrong,  is  it  ?  and  why  should  it  be  thought  ridiculous  ? 
But  is  it  ridiculous  ?  No  ;  it  can't  be  ridiculous.  But  if  it 
really  is  ridiculous,  what  then  ?  Why  shouldn't  a  fellow  make 
himself  ridiculous  sometimes  when  he  knows  he's  right?  If 
he  makes  himself  ridiculous  when  he  knows  he's  wrong  !  Ah ! 
that  is  another  thing."  And  Luther's  thoughts  ran  back  past 
his  steamboat  adventure,  to  the  days  of  Miss  Deborah  Doo- 
little. 

"  Yes,  you're  a  brave,"  exclaimed  the  old  woman.  "  ye 
voudrais  bien  savoir  sa pensee"  she  muttered  to  herself. 

Luther  made  no  reply ;  lost  in  thought  he  mechanically 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


157 


occupied  himself  in  assisting  his  companion's  footsteps,  and 
together  they  walked  two  or  three  blocks  in  silence. 

"Tell  me  what  of  you  think!  "  suddenly  exclaimed  the  old 
woman. 

Lut her  smiled. 

"  Oui!  out!  d  quoi pensez  vous?     Tell  me." 

Lut'ier  laughed  outright.  "  I  was  thinking,"  he  said,  "of 
a  remark  of  an  old  friend  of  mine." 

"  Repeat  it  to  me." 

"You  would  hardly  understand  it." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  Let  me  tell  you  I  comprehend  the 
English  perfectly  well." 

"Yes,  and  you  speak  it  very  purely,  but  my  friend's 
remark  was  in  English  of  the  sea,  and  not  English  of  the 
land." 

"  Never  mind,  repeat  it  to  me." 

Luther  laughed  again,  as  the  little  woman  reiterated  her 
order  in  a  peremptory  tone. 

"Well,"  replied  Luther,  "he  was  talking  about  people 
being  afraid  of  being  laughed  at.  He  said  that  he  never 
knew  a  lubber  who  was  afraid  of  being  laughed  at  turn  out  a 
good  seaman.  He  might  learn  to  slush  a  spar,  clean  the  pig 
sty,  or  milk  the  Captain's  goat,  but'you  couldn't  depend  upon 
him  to  haul  out  the  weather  earing  in  a  nor'-wester." 

"  And  you  was  think  of  that — ah  !  ah !  I  comprehend, 
parfaitement  I; ten !  parfaitement  bien  !  Your  sea  friend  will 
say  that  if  a  young  gentleman,  beau,  brave,  bien  mis,  gives  his 
arm  to  a  poor  old  shabby  Frenchwoman  in  Broadway,  he 
must  not  be  afraid  of  the  laugh.  Ha !  ha  !  Bien,  bim,  quit 
rit?  nous  verrons,  nous  verrons.  This  is  my  street,"  she  sud 
denly  exclaimed  as  they  reached  the  head  of  Houston  Street, 
"but  you  go  not  yet,  you  shall  come  with  me  to  my  apart 
ment.  Where  do  you  live  ? " 

Luther  hesitated.  He  had  felt  impelled  to  give  her  the  sup 
port  of  his  arm  for  the  time,  but  he  was  by  no  means  certain 
that  he  desired  to  form  any  permanent  friendly  relations  with 
her.  She  might  possibly  prove  a  disreputable  acquaintance  ; 


158  NEVER    AGAIN. 

she  might,  and  very  probably  would,  prove  a  disagreeable  one. 
Still  there  was  a  tone  of  decision  and  authority  in  her  way  of 
putting  her  queries  that  Luther  was  unable  to  resist,  and 
there  was  something  in  the  expression  of  her  flashing  black 
eyes  and  her  mobile  mouth,  in  fact  in  her  whole  air  and  man 
ner,  that  piqued  curiosity  and  excited  interest.  Why  should  he 
not  go  with  her  ?  The  cross-streets  were  even  more  slippery 
than  Broadway,  and  it  would  be  such  a  terrible  misfortune 
for  the  poor  old  thing  to  break  any  of  her  bones. 

"You  live  in  Bleecker  Street?  Good  !  we  are  neighbors. 
I  live  in  Wooster  Street,  close  by ;  viens  done.  I  shall  nqf 
take  you  much  out  -of  your  way — un  petit  pas  de  plus.  Ah, 
here  we  are — nous  sommes  arrives." 

The  speaker  stopped  at  one  of  a  row  of  old-fashioned  and 
rather  dilapidated  two-story  houses  with  dormer  windows. 
The  worn  and  battered  door  stood  open,  disclosing  the  bare 
and  dirty  boards  of  the  hall  floor,  and  a  rickety,  carpetless 
staircase.  The  fractured  balusters  ;  the  broken  plaster  of  the 
side  walls  exposing  the  splintered  lathing  ;  the  flutter  of  old 
rags  chinking  the  broken  fanlights ;  and  the  vista  of  a  sloppy 
yard  filled  with  dirt-heaps,  headless  and  hoopless  barrels,  old 
tubs,  and  broken  crockery,  made  a  fine  subject  for  a  picture 
for  some  of  the  great  masters  of  genre,  but  which  Luther 
failed  to  appreciate.  "  Ah,  I  understand,"  said  Mr.  Whop 
pers,  as  Luther  was  describing  to  him  the  scene,  "more 
homely  than  homey." 

"  Come  in  !  come  in  !  I  insist ! ' :  said  the  old  woman,  as 
Luther  helped  her  up  the  steps;  "you  have  been  too  good  not 
to  give  me  the  pleasure  of  your  company  for  a  few  moments 
more." 

Luther  could  not  refuse.  His  curiosity  was  excited,  and 
any  doubts  as  to  the  danger  or  impropriety  of  the  adventure 
were  quieted  by  the  sight  of  a  group  of  dirty  children  in  the 
hall,  and  the  signs  of  an  honest  cobbler  in  the  front  base 
ment  windows. 

"  This  house  is  mine,"  said  the  old  woman  as  she  led  the 
way  up-stairs  ;  "  but  I  have  no  need  for  the  whole.  My  loca- 


NEVER  AGAIN.  159 

taires  are  not  elegant  people,  mais  que  vouhz  vous  ! — they  pay 
their  rent  and  make  not  a  noise  too  much  ; — except, — except, 
well,  yes,  except  this  fellow  here  on  the  second  floor  to  the 
front.  He  fights  his  wife  sometimes,  and  then,  ah  mon  Diett, 
qu'el  tapage  horrible !  I  tell  him  the  next  time  he  fights  his 
wife  he  fights  her  in  the  street,  mais  donnez  vous  la  peine  de 
monter  encore.  I  live  in  the  attic  ;  quite  at  the  top  ;  voild  mon 
voisin"  indicating  the  front  attic  room — "  my  neighbor.  Oh, 
he  is  a  great  man  !  Mon  Dieu,  quelle  fete  !  On  me  dit"  she 
whispered,  "  quil  est  le  plus  grand  inventeur  du  monde ;  peut 
etre — sais  pas,  mais  ilestfou.  He  work  all  day  and  all  night, 
et  il  ne  gagne  pas  un  sou.  I  must  have  my  rent.  He  may  be 
a  great  inventor,  but — I  must  have  my  rent !  " 

"  What  countryman  is  he?  "  demanded  Luther. 

"//  est  Americain,  je  crois.  Je  n'en  suis pas  sure;  but  I 
think ;  because  I  speak  to  him  French  and  German — he  does 
not  comprehend  both  too  well.  But  he  is  not  like  the  Amer 
icans.  He  studies  all  night.  He  files  the  brass  and  the  iron, 
and  he  makes  the  wood  in  the  what  you  call  it — le  tour — the 
lathe  all  day.  He  does  not  eat,  he  does  not  talk ;  he  thinks 
— he  thinks  all  the  time;  he  lives  in  a  state  of  maussaderie 
incroyable, — all  what  you  call  higgledy-piggledy,  but  he  does 
not  make  any  money.  He  sits  on  his  grand  ideas  like  a  cou- 
veuse,  just  like  an  old  hen  ;  but  will  he  hatch  something  ? 
sais  pas;  but  I  know  he  does  not  hatch  any  money.  That  is 
not  like  a  Yankee.  Oh,  the  Yankees  are  the  great  people  to 
gain  money  quick.  Flick  !  Flack  !  Pouf  ! — ten  thousand 
dollars, — twenty  thousand  dollars, — hundred  thousand  dollars  ! 
If  the  Yankee  does  not  gain  money  'tis  because  he  is  a  lazy 
fellow,  or  because  he  is  a  fool.  Monsieur  Planly  is  not  lazy, 
he  must  be  a  fool.  But  I  must  have  my  rent.  Entrez,  Mon 
sieur,  void  mon  appartement.  Dieu  qifil  fait  sombre — tennez 
— -je  vats  allumer  ma  lampe ;  I  will  make  a  light  in  one  lit 
tle  moment." 

Madame  Steignitz  struck  a  match  and,  lighting  her  lamp, 
motioned  Luther  to  a  seat  on  an  old  lounge  covered  with 
faded  chintz.  Rapidly  throwing  off  her  bonnet,  cloak,  and 


l6o  NEVER  AGAIN. 

cat-skin  victorine,  and  opening  the  folds  of  a  dingy  curtain 
covering  a  shallow  recess,  she  hung  them  or  rather  flung  them 
with  a  careless  jerk  on  to  their  accustomed  pegs  at  the  foot 
of  a  narrow  bed.  The  gloves,  however,  demanded  more  con 
sideration.  She  advanced  to  the  light,  examined  the  stains 
and  rents,  shook  her  head  sorrowfully,  and  slowly  drawing 
them  off,  smoothed  them  out  with  care,  and  placed  them  with 
great  deliberation  and  precision  in  a  handsome  glove-box  of 
Russia  leather.  In  doing  this,  she  disclosed  a  pair  of  very 
white  and  delicate  hands,  well-shaped  and  smooth,  and  giving 
none  of  the  usual  and  certain  signs  of  age  in  the  roughened 
skin  and  the  predominance  of  the  flexor  over  the  extensor 
muscles. 

Luther  looked  on  much  amused.  He  thought  he  compre 
hended  the  whole  scene,  and  his  imagination  framed  upon  the 
instant  a  long  story.  Once  a  lady,  young,  handsome,  and 
vain ;  once  the  envy  of  women  and  the  admiration  of  men  :  for 
it  was  plain  to  be  seen  in  her  vivacious  dark  eye,  her  straight 
and  well-formed  nose,  a  little  inclining,  perhaps,  to  the  Jewish 
type,  in  her  large,  full-lipped,  but  expressive  mouth,  her  nicely- 
rounded  chin,  in  fact  in  the  general  contour  of  head  and  face, 
that,  in  those  days,  far  back,  when  vigorous  pulses  had  dis 
tended  and  illuminated  the  now  dried  and  darkened  skin,  she 
had  been  handsome.  Disappointment  in  love — loss  of  friends 
— and  then  poverty,  stern  poverty,  driving  out  vanity ;  chas 
ing  it  from  head  and  cheek  and  person  ;  leaving  nothing  but  a 
remnant  clinging  to  the  handsome  hands  in  their  special  priv 
ilege  of  the  finest  and  nicest  Parisian  dress — that  was  the 
story ! 

Luther  was  right  in  the  main  as  to  the  indications  of  hand 
and  glove,  but  wrong  in  his  conjecture  as  to  the  moving  pas 
sion.  It  was  not  blighted  affection,  hardly  grief,  and  certainly 
not  poverty  that  had  so  nearly  exterminated  the  universal,  and 
almost  strongest,  sentiment  of  the  female  heart.  It  was  a 
stronger,  fiercer  influence :  the  inordinate  love  of  money — a 
passion  within  bounds  useful ;  but,  uncontrolled,  like  Aaron's 
rod ;  or,  to  drop  such  a  hackneyed  figure,  like  a  badly-trained 


NEVER   AGAIN.  Z6i 

ferret  in  a  barn-yard,  killing  the  rats  and  driving  off  all  vermin, 
but,  in  its  insatiable  blood-thirsty  rage,  throttling  and  destroy 
ing,  right  and  left,  young  and  old,  the  defenceless  denizens  of 
the  poultry-ground  and  the  hen-house. 

"  Maintenant ! "  exclaimed  Madame  Steignitz,  turning 
round  to  Luther,  "  let  me  look  at  you.  I  want  to  see  the 
young  gentleman  who  would  give  his  arm  to  help  a  poor 
old  woman  in  Broadway.  Bon ! "  she  continued,  as  Luther 
smiled  under  this  deliberate  scrutiny.  "  Now  you  shall  tell  me 
all  about  yourself,"  and  the  old  lady  began  a  string  of  questions 
as  to  age,  birth,  parentage,  present  employment,  and  future 
prospects,  etc.,  to  which  Luther  replied  very  amiably  until  at 
last  he  began  to  be  a  little  annoyed  by  her  minute  inquisitive- 
ness.  She  probed  him,  however,  with  so  much  pertinacity 
and  vivacity  of  manner  that  he  could  not  escape  answering. 
He  told  about  his  steam-boat  disaster  ;  described  his  friends 
Captain  Combings  and  Mr.  Whoppers  ;  and  touched  upon 
the  social  and  epicurean  delights  of  Miss  Jones'  boarding- 
house.  But  one  thing  he  avoided,  and  that  was  the  title  of 
the  firm  in  whose  employment  he  was,  from  a  feeling  that  the 
mention  of  Mr.  Ledgeral's  name  might  lead  to  some  inquiries 
about  the  family  in  Waverley  Place,  which  he  might  not  like  to 
answer.  Happily  she  did  not  demand  the  name.  The  com 
mon  New  York  phrase,  '  in  a  store  down  town,'  satisfied  her, 
and  prevented  the  necessity  of  mentioning  a  name  that  might 
have  aroused  associations  she  little  thought  of  at  the  moment. 
Luther  of  course  knew  nothing  of  this.  His  hesitation  was 
an  instinctive,  not  a  conscious,  shrinking.  It  was  an  invol 
untary  pause,  as  the  hollow  murmur  of  Mr.  Whoppers'  silver 
sea  upon  whose  shore  he  stood  surged  up  in  gusts  of  profound- 
est  warning. 

The  old  lady  took  another  look  at  Luther's  face.  "  Bon  !  " 
she  exclaimed  ;  "  ce  n'est  pas  le  regard  d'un  fripon.  You  have 
told  me  about  yourself;  I  will  tell  you  about  myself.  My  first 
name  was  De  Laune — Annette  De  Laune,  but  I  married  a 
German,  Steignitz.  Ha  !  "  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  turning 
sharply  to  Luther  and  eying  him  suspiciously,  "  you  did  not 
ii 


1 62  NEVER  AGAIN. 

know  that  was  my  name  when  you  helped  me  up  in  the  street; 
you  never  heard  of  Madame  Steignitz — eh  ?  " 

Luther  shook  his  head. 

"  Well,  well,  that  is  my  name.  I  am  a  poor  woman — very 
poor,  and  I  have  no  relatives,  rfo  friends ;  but  I  do  not  need 
any  help.  I  do  not  beg.  I  live  by  myself.  It  does  not  cost 
much.  Nobody  comes  to  see  me.  My  husband  left  me  this 
house.  'Tis  old  ;  'tis  broken  ;  my  tenants  cheat  me  of  the 
rent ;  the  city  robs  me  with  the  tax ;  and  then  the  interest 
upon  mortgage  in  this  country  is  so  high.  Ah  mon  Dieu  ! 
A  poor  woman  in  this  country  has  a  hard  time  to  faire  son 
chemin — what  you  call  to  get  along." 

"  Have  you  no  wish  to  return  to  your  own  country  ? " 
demanded  Luther. 

"  No,  no,  1  have  no  country.  When  I  was  young  I  love 
my  own  country ;  I  love  my  other  country — hinter  dem  Rhin. 
And  now,  this  is  my  country.  I  shall  have  no  other.  But  do 
not  go,"  she  continued,  as  Luther  made  a  motion  to  depart ; 
"you  are  the  first  that  has  been  in  this  chamber  for  several 
years.  I  like  your  looks ;  I  think  you  are  honest ;  I  know 
you  are  brave.  Yes !  yes  !  yes ! "  She  nodded  her  head 
emphatically  several  times,  and  suddenly  her  eyes,  which  were 
steadily  directed  at  Luther's  face,  seemed  to  penetrate  com 
pletely  through  him  and  beyond  him  into  blank  space,  thou 
sands  of  miles  away. 

She  started,  raised  her  hands,  and  flung  them  out  with  a 
movement  of  desperate  impatience  and  rage  ;  the  next  instant 
clasped  and  wrung  them  with  an  expression  of  the  fiercest 
anguish.  " Ah,  mon  Dieu,  mon  Dieu"  she  cried,  " if  he  had 
lived  he  too  might  have  been  like  this.  Oui,  oui,  like  this. 
O,  mon  enfant,  mon  petit !  Pardon,"  she  exclaimed  in  the  next 
moment,  laying  her  hand  gently  on  Luther's  arm.  "I  have 
frightened  you,  but  it  is  nothing.  You  will  forgive  a  poor  old 
woman  who  has  sometimes  some  ugly  thoughts.  She  is  not 
crazy.  Do  you  not  have  any  fears !  It  is  all  right  here,"  tap 
ping  her  forehead.  "  And  now  I  want  you  to  come  and  see 
me  sometimes.  It  seems  to  me  that  some  light  comes  where 


NEVER  AGAIN.  163 

you  stand,  and  it  is  so  very  dark!  yes,  it  is  so  very  dark 
always.  I  want  you  should  come  sometimes." 

Luther  expressed  his  willingness  to  do  so. 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  know  what  that  means.  You  hope  to  have 
the  pleasure  sometime  ;  but  I  must  have  something  better 
than  that.  I  have  never  asked  anybody  to  come  and  see  me 
before.  Why  should  anybody  come  to  see  a  poor  old  French 
woman  ?  To  do  so  they  must  have  some  cause,  some  reason. 
I  am  not  such  a  fool  as  to  think  they  would  come  for  nothing. 
To  make  sure,  I  must  bribe  you.  I  cannot  give  you  money. 
I  have  none,  and  if  I  had,"  she  added  apologetically,  seeing 
Luther's  face  beginning  to  flush — "  if  I  had,  you  would  not 
take  it?  Well,  'tis  not  many  such;  but  I  must  bribe  you. 
You  would  come  once  or  twice  to  please  a  poor,  solitary  old 
woman  ;  but  no,  I  will  not  that  old  age  should  be  exigeant  to 
youth.  You  shall  not  come  once  or  twice,  but  fifty  times,  to 
please  yourself.  You  tell  me  you  study  a  great  deal.  You 
say  you  have  studied  the  French  a  little,  but  you  cannot  speak 
it.  Would  you  like  to  speak  French?" 

Luther's  eyes  sparkled.  "  Nothing  I  desire  so  much,"  he 
replied.  "  Nothing  am  I  so  determined  upon,  but  my  oppor 
tunities  are  poor.  I  cannot  afford  a  private  master,  and  twice 
a  week  with  a  large  public  class  at  the  Mercantile  Library  is 
slow  work." 

"  C'est  pa,"  exclaimed  Madame  Steigmtz,  "  the  lessons  are 
few,  the  time  is  short,  the  practice  is  nothing,  and  not  always 
the  master  is  good.  You  come  to  me,  I  remedy  all  that.  I 
make  you  speak  French  ;  I  know  how  to  teach  better  than  a 
master ;  I  have  learned  them  myself.  I  speak  German  like 
my  own  language.  I  speak  English,  as  you  see.  I  speak  Ital 
ian  as  well  as  the  Pope  ;  and  I  have  lived  three  years  in  Ma 
drid.  You  shall  come  to  me ;  it  shall  cost  you  nothing.  In 
six  months  I  will  make  you  speak  French,  not  like  a  native 
Parisian — -that  is  all  blague,  what  you  call  'stuff' — but  you  shall 
speak  it  like  a  gentleman  comme  ilfaut,  and  not  like  a  school 
boy.  The  Frenchman  shall  not  say,  Voila  un  Parisien  !  mais 
on  dira,  II  parle  mieux  qifnn  Fran$ais.  Un  petit  accent! 


164  NEVER   AGAIN. 

Mais  comme,  <?cst  delideux  !    And,  perhaps,  German,  too  !    Ah  ! 
but  that  would  be  trap  de  bonheur,  eh  ?    No,  no,  it  shall  be." 

Madame  Steignitz  laughed  and  held  out  her  hand,  and  Lu. 
ther  took  his  leave  with  feelings  quite  elated  as  the  vision  of 
unlimited  French  opened  before  him. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Ihe  Inventor — New  York  Streets — Hygienic  Propositions — Planly's 
Plans — Whoppers  on  Luther's  Good  Luck — An  Invitation  to  the 
House  up-town — The  Editor's  Comments — Certain  Characters  and 
Characteristics  of  Society. 

AS  Luther  came  out  into  the  hall  the  door  of  the  front  attic 
room  was  opened,  and  Mr.  Planly,  the  inventor,  made 
his  appearance  and  prepared  to  descend  the  stairs.  He  was 
tall,  gaunt,  and  round-shouldered.  A  short,  thin,  faded  blue 
camlet  cloak  hung  from  his  shoulders,  and  partially  concealed 
a  seamed,  smirched,  and  almost  thread-bare  suit  of  black, 
which  was  carefully  buttoned  up  to  the  chin,  perhaps  solely 
to  protect  his  breast  from  the  cold,  but,  as  no  linen  appeared 
above  the  rusty  black  silk  cravat,  perhaps,  also,  to  screen  a 
well-worn  woollen  shirt  from  sight.  Perhaps!  we  say,  for 
there  was  a  depth  of  speculation  in  those  dark  gray,  caverned 
eyes  that  forbade  a  measurement  of  motives  by  the  little  two- 
foot  rule  of  social  vanities  and  sentiments.  A  thick  grizzly- 
beard  and  mustache  partially  concealed  the  sunken  cheeks 
and  delicate  mouth,  and  the  well-rounded,  but  not  very 
powerful  jaw  and  chin.  The  nose,  well  enough  in  its  way, 
was  not  a  prominent  feature  ;  not  at  all  a  powerful  nose ;  but 
above  it,  the  forehead  swelled  into  proportions  truly  striking. 
The  immense  breadth  rather  obscured  the  length.  The  per 
ceptive  and  reflective  organs  seemed  to  be  well  balanced,  but 
the  organs  of  ideality,  bursting  out  in  great  tables  and  plains 
of  osseous  development  on  either  side,  made  and  marked  the 
character  of  the  head.  They  suggested  to  Luther's  mind  the 
idea  of  being  levered  upward  and  outward  by  the  same  irre 
sistible  power  that  is  upheaving  the  shores  of  Sweden,  or  the 
plateaus  and  mountain  masses  of  Colorado  and  Nevada. 


1 66  NEVER   AGAIN. 

"  Exactly,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers,  to  whom  Luther 
was  relating  his  adventures.  "  Undoubtedly  the  same  power  ; 
correlation  of  forces,  you  know,  and  all  that.  Now  couldn't 
we  devise  some  experiments  to  determine  the  exact  propor 
tion,  say  between  the  Catskills  and  that  fellow's  cerebellum  ?  " 

Mr.  Planly  took  off  his  battered  and  napless  hat  in  return 
to  Luther's  respectful  salutation. 

A  few  scanty  gray  hairs  covered  the  top  of  his  head,  which 
was  quite  flat,  as  if  the  organ  of  veneration  had  been  cut  off 
or  driven  in,  leaving  in  fact  a  hollow  that  would  almost  have 
held  water  like  -  the  back  of  a  prize  ox.  The  mechanical 
inventor  stood  revealed.  What  could  a  man  with  such  a 
shaped  head  do  but  worship  the  graven  images,  the  cut  and 
carved  and  hammered  idols  of  his  own  fancy,  and  revel  in  the 
glorious  mechanical  possibilities  of  material  nature.  Not  for 
him  the  reverential  awe  of  authority,  not  for  him  an  unhesitat 
ing  faith  in  dogma,  not  for  him  the  meritorious  abasement  of 
self  before  the  unknown  and  the  unknowable.  The  dance  of 
his  imagination  must  be  along  the  paths,  or  rather  by-paths, 
of  the  practical  and  the  actual ;  his  faith  must  necessarily  be 
circumscribed  and  hampered  by  obedience  to  scientific 
methods  and  conclusions,  and  his  soul,  unlike  many  happier 
souls,  inhabiting  heads  with  an  elevated  apex,  could  not  be 
upborne  into  the  regions  of  religious  mist  upon  the  pious  pin 
ions  of  a  devout  metaphysic,  but  must  necessarily  wing  its 
flights,  guided  by  the  dictates  of  a  positive  philosophy,  along 
the  less  elevated,  but  still  gorgeous  and  wonderful,  hills 
and  valleys,  meads  and  gardens,  of  a  material  and  objective 
creation. 

Mr.  Planly  returned  Luther's  salute,  and  together  they 
descended  the  stairs.  Both  seemed  struck  with  each  other's 
appearance,  and  with  reason,  for  there  was  much  in  both  that 
would  have  attracted  the  eye  of  even  a  common  observer. 
Of  course,  the  conversation  began  with  the  inevitable  subject 
— the  range  of  the  thermometer,  and  that  New  York  topic  par 
excellence — the  state  of  the  streets. 

Happy,  happy  denizen  of  the  great  Western  metropolis ! 


NEVER  AGAIN.  167 

How  thankful  ought  he  to  be  for  the  crowning  mercy  of 
American  life  !  How  grateful  to  a  benign  municipal  govern 
ment  ought  he  ever  to  be  for  a  topic  of  conversation  not 
hackneyed  like  the  weather,  but  always  fresh  and  always 
present !  How  proud  ought  he  to  be  of  his  citizenship !  I 
am  a  Roman  citizen  !  Bah  !  I  am  a  citizen  of  New  York !  a 
citizen  of  a  city  of  patient  people  !  Talk  not  of  Rome,  or  the 
rampant  virtues  of  that  vehement  pagan  race.  Under  similar 
circumstances  of  dust,  mud,  filth,  rascality,  and  corruption, 
they  would  have  risen  in  revolution,  cut  off  the  heads  of  their 
consuls,  tried  their  tribunes  and  hanged  them,  and  flogged 
their  lictors  with  their  own  fasces  !  The  Christian  virtues, 
patience,  humility,  meekness  ;  the  meritorious  conditions  of 
submission,  long-suffering,  and  endurance  of  evil  could  never, 
then  and  there,  have  received  that  special  and  wonderful 
illustration  which  constitutes  the  real  greatness  and  glory  of 
New  York. 

Mr.  Planly  expressed  the  opinion  that,  offensive  as 
may  be  the  dirt  of  the  streets,  both  to  eye  and  nose,  the 
danger  to  health  is  small  compared  with  that  from  the  great 
laboratory  of  malific  influences  underlying  the  streets.  "  It  is 
unquestionably  the  sewers,"  he  said,  "  that  are  the  great 
breeders  and  feeders  of  disease  ;  and  there  is  no  excuse  for 
that,  you  know,  so  long  as  the  trouble  can  be  so  easily 
remedied." 

"  By  the  utilization  of  the  sewerage  and  its  conversion  into 
fertilizing  products  ?  "  demanded  Luther. 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Planly.  "  It  will  take,  perhaps,  a  hun 
dred  years  before  New  Yorkers  get  that  amount  of  sanitary 
science  knocked  into  them.  Three  generations  at  least  must 
struggle  along  with  poisonous  gases,  and  the  miasms  of 
scarlet  fever,  cholera,  and  typhoid  ;  and  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  children,  and  adults  as  well,  will  have  to  be  slaughtered 
before  the  people  can  rise  to  a  sufficiently  clear  conception 
that  the  present  disposal  of  sewerage  is  wicked  and  wasteful, 
as  well  as  offensive,  or  be  willing  to  submit  to  the  great  labor 
and  expense  of  a  complete  change  of  system.  No,  my  c  nly 


1 68  NEVER   AGAIN. 

hope  for  the  present  generation  is  in  a  much  simpler  plan — 
one  that  has  been  tried  and  found  to  work  admirably." 

"  Where  was  that  ?  "  demanded  Luther. 

"  In  Killoam,"  replied  Mr.  Planly ;  and  seeing  Luther 
look  a  little  blank  he  added,  "  the  great  capital  of  Frama- 
zugda — you  will  find  an  account  of  it  in  that  veracious  book 
of  travels — Kaloolah.  The  plan  consists  in  building  towers  or 
ventilating  chimneys  to  the  sewers.  Here  in  New  York,"  con 
tinued  Mr.  Planly,  "I  suppose  that  from  thirty  to  forty 
such  towers — say  two  hundred  feet  high — would  be  enough. 
They  would  not  cost  much,  especially  when  we  consider  the 
vast  evil  to  be  remedied,  and  that  no  system  of  plumbing 
that  could  be  devised  can,  or  if  devised,  will,  from  its  expense 
and  inconvenience,  and  the  recklessness  of  individuals, 
make  of  our  houses  anything  but  poisonous  death-dealing 
centres  of  disease.  If  expense  is  an  objection,  better  build 
them  in  the  roughest  way,  without  ornamentation,  like  the 
draft  chimneys  of  manufactories.  Health  first  and  beauty 
afterwards — a  million  of  dollars  would  build  the  whole  forty 
in  a  plain  but  effective  style.  Arrangements  should  be  made 
for  increasing  the  draft  at  will  by  burning  gas  within  the 
chimney,  and  perhaps  a  design  might  be  adopted  for  deod-' 
orizing  and  purifying  or  destroying  the  effluvium  in  its  pas 
sage  upward.  But  perhaps  it  would  be  well  not  to  compli 
cate  the  plan  beyond  the  conceptive  powers  of  the  average 
municipal  mind." 

"  It  seems  as  if  it  might  be  effective,"  said  Luther. 

"Seems!  my  dear  Sir!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Planly,  catching 
Luther's  arm  and  pulling  him  around  the  corner  out  of  the 
way  of  the  wind,  which  began  to  whistle  keenly.  "  Seems  ! 
why  it  has  been  done.  Livingstone,  I  hope,  will  be  able  to  tell 
us  all  about  it  when  he  gets  home,  for  he  must  have  visited 
Killoam.  It  can't  fail.  The  elements  of  the  calculation  are  all 
known — and  I  have  gone  over  them  myself.  In  the  first  place, 
the  awful  evil  to  be  overcome  is  admitted — next,  the  area  of 
sewerage,  amount  of  poison  to  be  eliminated,  area  of  ventilat 
ing  shafts — height  of  shaft,  strength  of  up-draft,  consequent 


NEVER   AGAIN.  169 

pressure  outward  and  downward  at  all  the  orifices  in  our 
houses,  where  now  the  poisonous  pressure  is  inward  and  up 
ward,  are  all  calculable." 

Mr.  Planly  had  found  a  sympathetic  listener,  and  his  voice 
grew  emphatic  as  the  enthusaism  of  the  inventor  rose.  He 
could  have  talked  for  an  hour  on  the  peak  of  an  iceberg. 
Never  mind  the  cold  wind  or  a  cold  dinner. 

Luther  began  to  think  of  the  last,  when  a  happy  thought 
struck  him — not  that  it  required  any  great  stretch  of  imagina 
tion.  It  was  simply  one  that  is  almost  inconceivably  natural  and 
common  to  the  New  York  mind.  He  thought  that  he  would 
dive  into  a  neighboring  oyster-cellar  and  have  a  stew,  and 
the  suspicion  crossed  his  mind  that  perhaps,  if  he  asked  Mr. 
Planly  to  join  him,  it  might  be  an  unusually  proper  and  appro 
priate  thing  to  do.  At  any  rate  a  double  box-stew  of  splen 
did  East  Rivers,  unlimited  coolslaa,  and  bread  and  butter, 
and  a  glass  of  creamy  ale,  did  not  appear  in  the  least  to  inter 
fere  with  the  inventor's  willingness  to  unfold  a  little  more  in 
detail  his  ideas  of  sanitary  reform. 

Luther  listened  with  interest.  The  idea  of  extirpating  at 
one  swoop  and  at  so  little  expense,  and  without  interfering 
with  any  of  the  settled  habits  or  prejudices  of  the  community, 
so  large  a  proportion  of  the  causes  of  disease  and  consequent 
misery  would  have  charms  for  a  less  enthusiastic  and  imagina 
tive  mind.  Just  to  think  of  what  could  be  done,  and  that 
almost  immediately.  Think  of  the  thousands  of  lives  that 
would  be  preserved.  Think  of  the  pains,  the  aches,  the  ailings, 
the  blood-poisonings,  the  fevers  and  zymotic  diseases  of  all 
kinds  that  would  be  prevented.  Think  of  the  doctor's  bills  that 
would  be  saved.  Think  of  the  almost  universal  blasphemy  in 
attributing  to  the  Divine  Being  the  results  of  men's  culpable 
ignorance  and  carelessness  that  would  be  forever  suppressed  ! 
Why,  the  gain  would  be  something  tremendous  in  all  its  social 
consequences ! 

"  The  world  does  move,"  said  Mr.  Planly,  as  he  blandly 
accepted  Luther's  offer  of  a  second  glass  of  ale,  "  but  oh,  how 
slowly  in  the  matter  of  social  and  sanitary  reform.  In  a  cen- 


170  NEVER  AGAIN. 

tury  or  two,  people  will  look  back  to  our  times  with  somewhat 
of  the  same  feelings  with  which  we  regard  the  old  garc  de 
Feau  system  of  Edinburgh  and  various  Continental  cities. 
They  will  wonder  how  we  could  have  endured  for  a  moment 
the  thousand  ills  and  miseries  which  will  then  no  longer  exist, 
but  which  we  now  absurdly  suppose  flesh  to  be  necessarily 
heir  to,  and  which  we  blindly  dignify  into  visitations  of 
God." 

"  You  wouldn't  expect  to  abolish  all  diseases  ?  "  demanded 
Luther. 

"  Oh  no  !  only  a  large  proportion  of  the  most  terrible. 
There  would  still  remain  diseases  enough  to  do  death's  work, 
without  keeping  the  old  fellow  waiting  for  old  age.  But  I 
must  say  that  I  think  it  hardly  possible  to  calculate  how  far 
or  how  wide  a  reform  in  this  one  thing  might  extend.  Do 
you  know,"  and  here  Mr.  Planly,  as  his  second  mug  of  ale 
began  to  acquire  a  gentle  inclination  from  the  perpendicular, 
grew  more  and  more  confidential,  "  do  you  know  that  I  believe 
that  a  great  deal  of  the  universal  craving  for  stimulants  of  some 
kind  is  due  to  the  depressing  effect  of  miasmatic  effluvia. 
Think  of  that !  If  that  is  so,  eh  ?  " 

"  I  see,"  said  Luther.  "  It  is  admitted  that  there  is  not 
much  use  in  attacking  King  Alcohol  in  front.  You  would 
turn  his  flank,  and  take  him  in  the  rear,  and  scatter  his  chief 
allies." 

"  Exactly."  And  Mr.  Planly  emphasized  the  expression 
by  draining  the  last  drop. 

The  conversation  rambled  on  for  some  little  time.  Mr. 
Planly  explained  his  plan  for  improved  ventilation  of  houses, 
and  controlling  the  temperature — and  especially  for  the  pro 
duction  of  cold.  Every  attention  has  been  paid  to  heating 
houses,  none  to  cooling — in  our  climate,  almost  as  great  a 
necessity  as  the  other.  Mr.  Planly  pulled  out  his  pencil  and 
rapidly  illustrated  the  system  of  cooling  on  a  grand  scale  by 
means  of  condensed  air,  led  into  the  houses  in  tubes,  so  that 
any  one  could  turn  a  stop-cock  and  flash  as  much  cold  air  into 
his  rooms  as  he  pleased.  Mr.  Planly  would  have  continued 


NEVER  AGAIN.  17 1 

the  conversation  indefinitely,  but  Luther,  although  very  much 
interested,  bethought  himself  of  his  studies,  and  finding  that  it 
was  eight  o'clock,  made  a  movement  from  the  table,  from 
which  the  last  cracker  and  the  last  shred  of  cold-cut  cabbage 
had  disappeared. 

Both  of  them  expressing  their  obligations  each  to  the 
other  for  an  interesting  hour,  they  parted  with  mutual  promises 

of  further  and  more  intimate  acquaintance. 

***** 

At  the  corner  of  Broadway  Luther  bade  Mr.  Planly  good- 
evening,  and  hurried  around  the  block  to  his  home  in  Bleecker 
Street.  He  was  late,  but  Miss  Jones  received  him  with  a 
gracious  smile,  and  a  weak  and  cold  cup  of  tea  was  the  only 
penalty.  No,  not  the  only  penalty,  he  was  doomed  to  listen 
to  a  long  discussion  between  Dr.  Dronly  and  Mrs.  Lasher  as 
to  whether  Spiritualism  was  a  voice  from  the  angelic  spheres, 
or  whether  it  was  simply  a  manifestation  of  the  devil.  Both 
agreed  as  to  the  facts.  The  thumps,  jumps,  kicks,  table-dancing, 
spirit-faces,  and  floatings  about,  generally  in  darkened  rooms, 
there  could  be  no  dispute  about — but  the  explanation  !  Ah  ! 
then  came  a  harmonic  divergence — an  agreement  to  disagree. 
Both  repudiated  as  utterly  absurd  the  psychic  or  odic  force 
theory  ;  but,  while  Mrs.  Lasher  maintained  that  the  wonderful 
phenomena  were  manifestations  of  departed  spirits,  the  Doctor 
placed  himself,  as  he  said,  squarely  and  firmly  upon  the  bibli 
cal  record,  and  maintained  that  they  were  nothing  more  nor  less 
than  the  doings  of  Satan  himself. 

''  So  you  have  been  doing  the  gallant  this  evening,"  ex 
claimed  Mr.  Whoppers.  "  Walking  Broadway  in  the  daytime 
with  a  widow  on  your  arm  !  Look  out  for  the  widows,  Luther  • 
oh,  you  need  not  look  so  astonished.  Rolf  says  that  he  met 
you  with  Madame  Steignitz  hanging  on  to  you  as  lovingly  as 
if  she  was  your  own  grandmother.  How  did  you  pick  her 
up?" 

"Pick  her  up?  well,  that  is  just  it;  she  slipped  down  in 
the  street  and  I  picked  her  up.  But  how  did  Rolf  know  that 
her  name  was  Madame  Steignitz  ;  and  who  is  Madame  Steig- 


172 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


nitz  ?  No  disreputable  character,  I  hope,"  said  Luther,  who 
began  to  think  that  perhaps  he  had  made  a  mistake  in  making 
her  acquaintance. 

"  Well,  Rolf  knows  her  name  because  he  is  in  the  Bank, 
and  he  has  frequently  to  look  after  her  dividends.  Nobody 
knows  much  about  her,  but  there  is  no  doubt  that  she  is  rich. 
Rolf  says  she  owns  rows  of  houses,  has  piles  of  bonds  and 
mortgages,  and  oceans  of  bank-stock  :  manages  it  all  herself, 
never  spends  or  gives  away  a  penny.  But  female  misers  are 
always  freaky.  They  haven't  the  cold-blooded  persistence  of 
the  male  beast.  Who  knows  but  that  you  have  made  a  lucky 
find,  in  finding  the  old  woman  ;  you  may  find  your  name  in 
her  will  some  day." 

"  Pshaw  !  Rolf  is  wrong.  The  old  woman  that  I  was  help 
ing  is  a  poor  old  woman,  miserably  poor,  but  I  think  that  I 
was  lucky  in  falling  in  with  her."  And  then  Luther  told 
Whoppers  of  Madame  Steignitz's  promise  of  daily  lessons 
in  French." 

"  Whew ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers,  "  you  green  ones — 
you  modest  chaps,  have  a  way  of  going  it  sometimes  that  leaves 
us  old  fellows  far  in  the  rear.  Just  look  at  it!  You  saunter 
up  Broadway,  caring  for  nothing  or  nobody,  and  this  old 
Crassus  or  Croesus  in  petticoats  tumbles  into  your  arms. 
Pick  her  up !  why  I'd  pick  up  a  dozen  of  the  ugliest  old 
wealthy  women  in  town  ;  pads,  panniers,  paint,  bought  teeth, 
store-hair  and  all,  for  half  of  your  chance." 

Luther  laughed  and  protested  that  he  had  no  designs  upon 
the  old  lady's  purse,  but  that  he  meant  to  pick  her  brains  of  a 
little  German  and  French. 

"  When  do  you  begin  ?"  demanded  Mr.  Whoppers. 

"To-morrow  evening  I  am  to  take  my  first  lesson  at  eight 
o'clock." 

"  No,  you  can't  do  that,"  replied  Mr.  Whoppers ;  "  you  have 
made  another  engagement,  or  rather  I  have  for  you.  I  was 
up  at  the  house  in  Waverley  Place  to-day,  and  it  was  intimated 
to  me  that  my  presence  would  be  required  to-morrow  evening 
at  a  small  party.  As  I  don't  figure  on  the  light  fantastic, 


NEVER   AGAIN.  !73 

except  in  the  old-fashioned  quadratics  or  the  Virginia  reel, 
I  suppose  I  am  asked  to  corner  some  old  dowager  and  keep 
her  quiet  while  her  charge  has  the  range  of  the  rooms." 

"  But  what  has  that  to  do  with   me  ? "  demanded  Luther. 

"Why  you  are  invited  too.  I  was  told  to  ask  you.  It  is 
an  impromptu  affair ;  small  and  informal  ;  quite  a  family 
party ;  '  no  cards,'  as  they  say  in  the  wedding  notices  nowa 
days  ;  swallow-tails  of  course,  dress  vest,  pantaloons,  and  white 
neckties  advisable,  but  rien  de  rigueur  except  light  kids. 
Old  Ledgeral  told  me  to  bring  you  up." 

"  Well,  I  won't  go,"  replied  Luther. 

"Why  not?"  demanded  Mr.  Whoppers;  "you  are  not 
a-going  to  cut  up  proud,  are  you  ?  Do  you  want  papa  to  call 
upon  you  in  a  coach-and-four,  and  mamma  to  send  Brown  to 
you  with  her  respectful  compliments,  in  a  monogram  med  enve 
lope  a  foot  square?  Now  I  know  that  my  invitation  comes 
from  my  Lord,  and  that  my  Lady  just  barely  assents,  but  what 
do  I  care  ?  There  is  always  a  choice  of  Green  Seal  or  Roe- 
derer,  and  as  to  the  chicken  salad,  old  Joseph  makes  it  him 
self.  You  think  you  have  been  neglected  because  you  have 
been  now  more  than  a  year  in  the  store,  and  haven't  as  yet  been 
invited  up-town  to  dinner  half-a-dozen  times.  Don't  make  a 
fool  of  yourself!  What  would  you  think  of  a  fellow  who  should 
refuse  to  take  a  stroll  in  the  Hesperides,  or  even  to  look  into 
the  garden  gates,  because  the  golden  apples  hang  above  reach, 
and  old  Cerberus  won't  allow  a  ladder  ?  I  have  half  a  mind 
not  to  tell  you  something." 

"Well,  keep  it  to  yourself  then,"  replied  Luther ;  "but 
don't  mistake  me  or  think  me  such  a  fool  as  to  expect  or 
desire  any  attentions  that  my  position  don't  warrant.  I  know 
what  I  am,  a  poor  devil  of  a  clerk  ;  but  I  am  better  off  than  I 
was  two  years  ago — I  have  advanced  a  step  or  two,  and  you 
know  ce  rfest  que  le premier  pas  qui  couie.  I've  had  my  salary 
raised,  and  that  hundred  dollars  you  gave  me  for  my  scrib- 
blings  I've  stored  away  in  the  Savings  Bank.  I've  got  my 
foot  upon  the  shore  of  that  silver  sea,  or  that  golden  gulf,  you 
are  eternally  talking  about.  I  don't  care  which  it  is.  If  it's  a 


1 74  NEVER    AGAIN. 

silver  sea,  I  am  going  to  build  a  boat  of  bank-notes  and  sail 
over  it ;  if  it's  a  golden  gulf,  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  don't  bridge  it 
or  jump  it ;  but,  until  I  do,  you  musn't  suppose  I  am  going  to 
wriggle  myself  into  the  attentions  of  society,  or  to  feel  hurt 
because  I  don't  receive  them.  If  your  friend,  the  great  sexton 
of  Grace  Church,  should  offer  to  put  me  upon  his  list  of  salta 
tory  availables  to-morrow,  I  should  refuse  ;  but  I  don't  think 
it  is  pride." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  call  it  then  ? " 

"  I  call  it  self-respect" 

"  Bah  !  how  does  self-respect  prevent  your  going  with  me 
to-morrow  night  ? " 

"  In  this  way  :  a  verbal  invitation,  through  you  from  the 
master  of  the  house,  does  not  indicate  in  any  way  the  slightest 
desire  for  my  presence  on  the  part  of  the  only  persons  whose 
wishes  I  care  to  consult." 

"Now  I'll  be  hanged!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers,  "if  I 
havn't  half  a  mind  not  to  tell  you." 

"Tell  me  what?" 

"Why  that  Miss  Helen  followed  me  into  the  hall,  and 
said,  'Tell  Mr.  Lansdale  that  Aunt  Shippen  sends  him  a 
special  invitation,  and  that  we  shall  all  be  happy  to  see  him; 
there's  going  to  be  very  few  of  sister's  set  here :  only  a  dozen 
of  my  friends  and  some  old  folks.  Tell  him  he  must  come.' 
Now  you  are  not  going  to  refuse  such  an  invitation  as  that, 
are  you?  If  you  do,  all  I  can  say  is  that  you're  a  confounded 
impracticable  prig." 

"  Well  that  alters  the  case,"  replied  Luther,  "  but  I  am 
afraid  I  shall  not  cut  much  of  a  figure ;  you  know  I  am  entirely 
green  yet." 

"That  is  just  the  point ;  don't  try  to  cut  any  figure  at  all, 
and  you  will  do  well  enough.  If  we  had  time,  I'd  make  Ham 
ilton  Boggs  give  you  some  lessons.  Boggs  is  under  obligations 
to  me.  I've  attacked  him  more  than  a  dozen  times  in  the 
Universe.  I've  called  him  a  contemptible  sprig  of  fashion 
three  times.  Three  times  I  have  informed  him  personally 
that  high  birth  and  breeding  furnish  no  excuse  for  brutal  and 


NEVER  AGAIN.  175 

overbearing  manners  to  common  people ;  and  three  times, 
lately,  I  have  denounced  him  as  a  bloated  aristocrat.  In 
return  he  has  given  me  a  good  deal  of  fashionable  news  •  and 
two  dinners  at  Delmonico's ;  but  he  hasn't  half  paid  me.  If 
we  had  time,  I  know  he  would  give  you  any  instructions.  I 
don't  mean  in  the  way  of  manners.  You  are  all  right  there; 
but  a  little  information  as  to  the  lay  of  the  land,  and  who's 
who,  and  all  that.  No  matter,  however,  I  can  tell  you  all  that 
is  necessary.  I  can  show  you  all  the  styles.  The  verdant  and 
the  slightly  sentimental  will  do  in  this  case.  You  can  grin 
and  say  nothing  at  all,  if  you  choose,  or.  you  can  bow  and  say, 
'  I  hope  I  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Miss  Thompson  well 
this  evening — but,  I  need  not  ask,'  and  then  grin  as  if  you 
were  going  to  add,  '  she  is  looking  so  charming.'  But  that 
kind  of  thing  won't  do  in  some  cases.  You  might  get  a  put- 
back  as  Jules  Rodgers  did  when  he  made  the  same  speech  to 
Tilly  Dusenbury :  '  Bright  as  a  button  and  real  solid  silver, 
I  declare  ;  but  I  must  tell  you,  confidentially,  that  I  can't 
accept  it,  for  ever  since  the  income  tax  papa  won't  let  us  use 
anything  but  electro-plate.' 

"  Boggs  tells  about  her  dancing  with  the  Prince.  Tilly 
belongs  to  the  Pushton  set,  and  so  she  was  to  dance  with  the 
Prince,  and  the  best  birth,  breeding  and  refinement  of  society 
had  to  stand  back  and  kotou  from  a  decent  distance.  After 
the  dance  the  Hon.  Mr.  Flickerson  came  up  to  her  with  his 
'  Aw,  aw,  Miss  Dusenbury,  how  do  you  find  his  Royal  High 
ness  as  a  partner? '  'Jolly;  a  perfect  pet  ;  a  real  broth  of  a 
boy ;  especially  after  I  had  given  him  a  little  instruction.' 
'  Aw,  aw,  how  extraordinary.'  '  Yes,  I  told  his  Royal  High 
ness  to  waist  me  up  a  little  higher,  shorten  his  grip,  and 
lengthen  his  stride ;  which  he  did,  and  away  we  -.vent  like 
birds.'  '  God  bless  me  !  how  very  extraordinary ! '  and  the 
Hon.  Mr.  Flickerson  had  to  seize  a  glass  of  champagne  to 
keep  from  fainting  away  on  the  spot.  However,  to-mor 
row  you  won't  have  to  do  with  any  of  the  real  fast  ones — • 
mostly  young  fillies,  quiet  and  untrained.  You  can  seldom  or 
never  get  a  two-forty  gait  out  of  a  girl  under  twenty-five. 


1 76  NEVER  AGAIN. 

There  are,  it  is  true,  some  rare  exceptions.  There  is  Minnie 
Yadkins,  for  instance.  She  began  to  show  both  speed  and 
bottom  at  eighteen." 

"  And  what  is  her  rate  now,"  laughingly  demanded 
Luther. 

"Well,  I  have  not  had  lately  an  opportunity  to  time  her, 
but  I  rather  guess  she  can't  be  beat.  She's  about  as  fast  as 
they  make  'em  nowadays.  She  don't  care  what  she  says  or 
does,  or  how  she  says  and  does  it,  and  in  the  matter  of  chaff 
she  can  beat  a  steam  threshing-machine  any  day.  I'll  tell 
you  what,  you  had  not  better  give  her  any  of  your  '  sass.' 
She'd  deluge  you  with  the  latest  and  most  fashionable  slang. 
The  last  time  I  was  standing  beside  her  at  a  party,  young 
Davy  Spoons,  just  out,  came  up  to  her,  simpering  and  bow 
ing,  and  said,  '  May  I  have  the  felicity  of  complimenting  Miss 
Yadkins  upon  her  exquisite  toilet  this  evening,  and  of  hoping 
that  she  will  honor  me  with  a  turn  or  two  ? '  '  Well,  bully  for 
you,  little  David,'  she  exclaimed,  with  a  laugh,  and  tapping 
him  with  her  fan,  '  I  don't  know  but  you  may  sling  me  round 
a  few  times.  But  stop,  let  me  see,'  she  said,  looking  at  her 
tablets,  '  ah !  yes,  I  have  promised  the  next  heat  to  Waltic 
Von  Twill ;  but  I  guess  I'H  let  him  slide.'  'Oh,  I  don't  wish 
to  interfere  with  anybody,'  began  Spoons.  '  Oh,  bother ! 
never  mind,'  she  interrupted,  '  Waltie  will  keep,  especially  if 
you  put  a  little  ice  upon  him  once  in  a  while.'  And  all  this 
with  a  certain  grace  of  manner  and  tone  that  takes  it  quite 
out  of  the  plane  of  low-life  vulgarity,  and  elevates  it  into  the 
highest  regions  of  social  inanity  and  indecency." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  exclaimed  Luther,  his  face 
ablaze  with  indignation,  "  that  the  highest  class  of  society  is 
composed  of  such  as  your  Miss  Yadkinses  and  Miss  Dusen- 
burys  ? " 

"Dame,  as  the  French  say,  I  don't  know  that  the  Misses 
Yadkins  abound,  but  they  exist,  and  the  tendency  is  to  make 
more  of  them.  Demand  and  supply,  you  know.  When  you 
wanted  a  two-forty  horse  you  got  him  ;  and  now  there  are  five 
hundred  of  them  right  here  in  New  York,  and  a  dozen  or  two 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


177 


that  can  turn  a  mile  in  two-twenty.  However,  you  won't 
meet  any  of  the  flyers  to-morrow  night ;  or  if  you  should  you 
won't  see  anything  very  fast ;  the  aura  of  the  Ledgeral  set 
is  not  favorable  to  any  marked  exhibitions  of  speed. 
Besides,  you  are  too  green  yet  to  readily  distinguish  pace  and 
action,  even  if  you  should  meet  'em.  But  you'll  go  to-morrow 
night?" 

"  Perhaps." 

Luther  was  glad  to  be  alone.  He  had  enough  of  Mr. 
Whoppers'  conversation  for  the  time.  He  did  not  always 
like  its  tone,  and  this  evening  it  was  particularly  jarring  and 
discordant.  He  had  no  great  confidence  in  Mr.  Whoppers' 
knowledge  of  the  highest  phases  of  society,  and  he  didn't 
really  believe  a  word  about  fast  girls  and  coarse  snobs,  and 
ill-bred,  ignorant,  dowdy  fashionables,  and  all  that  cant  and 
slang  of  the  envious,  ignoble  vulgar.  He  felt  quite  confident 
that  the  highest  fashion  embraced  nothing  but  the  highest 
culture,  the  utmost  refinement  of  mind  and  heart,  the  perfec 
tion  of  manners,  the  last  ultimate  attainments  of  grace, 
beauty,  amiability,  and  wit.  If  it  didn't,  what  was  the  use  of 
having  any  distinctions  in  society  at  all  ?  Isn't  "society" — 
that  is,  society  that  pretends  to  be  "  society  "  par  excellence — 
founded  as  much  upon  the  concessions  of  the  many  as  upon 
the  assumptions  of  the  few :  and  are  people  such  downright 
donkeys  as  to  stand  a  tyranny  that  is  nothing  if  not  noble  ? 
Impossible  !  Isn't  it  well  known  that  the  sole  motive,  the 
only  justification,  the  veritable  raison  d'etre  of  an  exclusive 
fashionable  set,  is  the  cultivation  of  a  certain  quiet  elegance 
of  manner — a  certain  grace  of  conversation — a  certain  refine 
ment  of  mind  and  heart  ?  And  all  this  not  so  much  for  its 
own  pleasure  and  improvement  as  for  an  example  and  a 
counterpoise  to  the  boorishness  of  common  people,  and  as 
the  guardian  of  the  sacred  traditions  of  culture  and  of  all 
mental  and  moral  sweetness  ?  Bah !  he  wouldn't  believe  a 
word  of  Whoppers'  talk ;  but  he  resolved  to  learn  the  true 
state  of  the  case  some  day  from  his  own  observation. 

Under  the  guidance  of  Mr.  Whoppers  he  had  attended 


178  NEVER  AGAIN. 

two  or  three  public  balls,  and  had  made  one  of  a  small  party 
at  the  house  of  a  distinguished  public  functionary  and  poli 
tician  in  Madison  Avenue.  At  this  last  there  were  splendid 
apartments  filled  with  the  most  costly  furniture,  and  decora 
ted  in  the  style  of  the  newest  splendor.  And  why  not? 
Did  it  not  all  come  out  of  the  public  pockets  of  one  of  the 
richest  cities  in  the  world  ?  There  was  any  amount  of  dress, 
jewels,  and  good  looks  ;  the  music  was  exquisite ;  the  cham 
pagne  veritable  ;  the  pdti  de  foie  and  terrapin  unquestion 
able  ;  the  spun  sugar  magnificent.  The  centre  piece  was  an 
elaborate  representation  of  the  new  City  Hall ;  and  all 
around  the  border  of  the  table  was  a  most  delicately  curved 
and  interlaced  chain  of  horse-railroads,  street-sewers,  and 
grand  half-graded  boulevards.  It  was  all  beautiful,  artistic, 
splendid,  but  there  was  a  yahooistic  touch  and  tone  with  it 
all  that  went  right  to  Luther's  heart.  He  felt  that  he  was 
not  even  at  the  portals  of  genuine,  elevated,  cultivated  fash 
ion.  His  instinctive  refinement  was  so  shocked  that  he  point- 
blank  refused  to  go  with  Mr.  Whoppers  to  a  similar  enter 
tainment  where  it  was  expected  there  would  be  several  Con 
gressmen  and  their  families  ;  two  or  three  of  the  Chiefs  of 
Tammany ;  one  of  the  most  distinguished  members  of  the 
Board  of  Supervisors,  who  had  made  an  immense  fortune  ; 
and  a  contractor  for  odd  Corporation  jobs,  worth  his  five 
millions  ;  with  any  quantity  of  Aldermanic  millionaires. 

"  Well,  I  must  admit,"  said  Mr.  Whoppers,  who  was  urg 
ing  Luther  to  go,  "  it  is  not  exactly  the  crime  de  la  crvme,  but 
let  me  tell  you,  that  is  a  fluid  not  quite  so  easy  in  all  cases  to 
get." 

"  Well,  if  I  can't  get  cream,"  returned  Luther,  "  that  is 
no  reason  why  I  should  drink  swill  milk,  is  it?  No,  I'll 
wait." 

"Well,  you  may  have  to  wait  until  the  cows  come  home." 

"  I  will ;  and  I'll  be  in  no  hurry  for  the  first  milking  either. 
I'll  wait  for  the  strippings." 

Luther  felt  a  pang  of  regret  at  having  to  break  his  first 
engagement  with  Madame  Steignitz  ;  but  how  could  he  refuse 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


179 


an  invitation  from  Miss  Helen  Ledgeral  ?  True,  her  image 
had  somewhat  paled  in  the  past  two  years,  during  which  he 
had  only  seen  her  at  church  and  half-a-dozen  times  in  the 
street,  and  generally  then  only  to  bow  to  her.  In  fact  it 
might  have  faded  away  like  a  morning  cloud  in  the  full  glare 
of  day  into  the  dimmest  and  remotest  regions  of  fancy  had  it 
not  been  for  Mr.  Whoppers.  He  very  innocently  acted  as  a 
go-between,  and  by  his  occasional  remarks  and  his  frequent 
items  of  up-town  news  kept  up  the  interest.  Like  a  busy 
humble-bee  buzzing  from  flower  to  flower  in  a  clover-field, 
and  ignorant  of  the  important  part  he  is  playing  in  the  fructifi 
cation  of  the  plant ;  so  the  editor  fluttered  back  and  forth, 
utterly  unaware  of  the  little  germs  of  passion  he  was  carrying. 

With  Helen  the  feeling  of  profound  interest  in  the  young 
man  had  grown  rather  than  decreased — and  she  was  perfectly 
ready  to  avow  it.  Why  shouldn't  she  ?  What  more  natural  ? 
Wasn't  he  her  protege — didn't  she  make  him  what  he  is  ? 
Wasn't  he,  as  almost  head  clerk,  and  a  rapidly  rising  young  man, 
purely  her  own  creation  ?  And  how  nicely  he  had  repaid  her  ! 
how  fully  he  had  justified  her  recommendation  !  Why,  even 
her  father  had  mentioned  him  more  than  once  with  commen 
dation,  and  Uncle  Shippen  had  said  that  he  believed  that  he 
was  a  great  deal  better  than  most  young  men. 

Luther,  of  course,  couldn't  know  all  this.  He  had  thought 
of  himself  as  quite  forgotten,  and  he  had  begun  to  think  of 
her  as  one  that  must  soon  inevitably  vanish  from  his  vision, 
and  to  wonder  whether,  when  he  too  had  crossed  the  silver 
sea  or  jumped  the  golden  gulf,  he  should  find  anything  half  as 
fair  on  the  other  side.  But  now — well  he  should  see  her  ; 
speak  to  her  perhaps  ;  dance  with  her  perhaps  ;  hold  her 
delicate  hand  in  his  perhaps  ;  and — that  is,  if  mamma  allowed 
round  dances — clasp  her  flexile  waist ;  cushion  her  head  on 
his  shoulder ;  feel  her  soft  breath  on  his  cheek  ;  and  reel, 
whirl,  fly  away  up  into  the  most  distant  nebulous  regions  of 
the  surrounding  heaven.  He  hastily  scribbled  a  note  of  ex 
cuse  to  Madame  Steignitz  to  be  delivered  in  the  morning,  and 
jumped  into  his  knobby  corn-husk  bed. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  Small  Party  —  Luther's  First  Experience  —  The  Meeting  —  Helen  and 
Luther  —  Aunt  Shippen  —  Drawing-Room  Talk  —  Whoppers'  Advice 
—  A  New  York  Aristocrat  —  The  Dance  Begins. 


are  going  to  be  more  people  than  I  thought," 

-*-  said  Mr.  Whoppers,  as  he  and  Luther  ascended 
the  marble  steps  in  Washington  Square,  and  heard  the 
announcement  "  Gentlemen,  second  floor  front."  "  Well, 
that  is  all  the  better  for  you  ;  you  won't  feel  quite  so  much 
as  if  everybody  was  looking  at  you.  Ah  !  Joseph,  how  do 
you  do?  I've  got  a  bone  to  pick  with  you." 

"  A  bone,  sar  !  "  grinned  Joseph. 

"  Yes,  a  big  one  :  why  did  you  tell  me  that  there  was  to 
be  no  party  to-night  —  half-a-dozen  people  or  so  ?  " 

"Well,  sah,  I  tell  de  truf  ;  'taint  no  party,  only  a  little 
gatherem  ;  most  'specially  ob  de  young  folks  —  purty  much  all 
in  de  firm  or  de  family.  You  don't  see  no  Mister  Brown  out 
side  de  door,  do  you  ?  I've  got  de  supumversion  ob  de 
whole  ting  myself." 

"  You're  right  Joseph,"  laughed  Mr.  Whoppers,  as  he  and 
Luther  ascended  to  the  dressing-room.  "  No  Brown  ;  no 
party.  You  ought  to  know  Brown.  He's  a  New  York  insti 
tution  of  the  biggest  kind.  I  don't  know,  for  a  certainty,  but 
I  don't  believe  they  have  got  such  a  thing  in  all  London  or 
Paris.  They  may  have  Joneses  and  Fergusons  and  Jenkins* 
es  ;  they  may  even  have  Browns,  but  I  don't  believe  they  have 
got  a  Brown.  Our  Brown  is  the  embodiment  of  an  immense 
amount  of  social  force.  He  is  a  power  ;  an  authority  ;  a 


NEVER  AGAIN.  181 

law  •  an  imposing  and  ponderous  expression  of  fashion.  He 
has  no  rivals.  There  are  other  men  who  can  be  hired  to  dis 
tribute  cards  ;  superintend  the  arrivals  ;  call  and  direct  coach 
men  ;  and  all  that  kind  of  thing ;  but  it  is  well  known  to  all 
your  acquaintances  that  you  employ  them  only  because  you 
can't  get  Brown.  Your  ball  or  party  minus  Brown  only  signi 
fies  that  the  ultra  fashionable  Mrs.  De  Bellevert,  or  Mrs.  Van 
T wilier,  is  giving  a  ball  or  party  at  the  same  time.  You  must 
know  Brown.  He's  a  friend  of  mine ;  I'll  introduce  you 
some  time.  Come,  hurry  on  your  kids,  and  let  us  go  down  : 
you  feel  a  little  shy  ?  well,  of  course  you  do,  I  wouldn't  give 
two  cents  for  a  young  fellow  in  your  circumstances  who 
didn't" 

"  Well,  I'd  give  a  good  deal  more  than  two  cents  for  a 
little  of  your  modest  assurance,"  said  Luther. 

"  Bah !  never  you  fear.  It's  just  like  public  speaking ;  the 
man  who  don't  hesitate  and  boggle  and  break  down  the  first 
time  he  tries  speaking  in  public  will  never  make  an  orator ; 
so  the  young  man,  or  woman  either,  who  is  not  a  little  shy  at 
first  going  into  company  will  never  have  good  manners.  An 
absence  of  shyness  indicates  an  absence  of  imagination  and 
sensibility,  without  which  manner  may  be  passable,  but  sel 
dom  downright  pleasing,  much  less  perfect.  I  was  shy  myself 
once,  but  I  have  almost  forgotten  the  time  when  ;  so,  courage  ! 
follow  me,  and  where  you  see  my  white  plume  wave,  dash 
into  the  heady  current  of  the  fight — into  the  thick  of  the 
melee ;  where  bright  eyes  are  flashing  and  sweet  voices  ring 
ing  ;  and  frizzetts  and  chignons  bowing  and  bending ;  and 
fair  bosoms  heaving ;  and  all  the  batteries  of  beauty  playing ; 
and  champagne  flowing  like  water  ;  and  chicken-salad  and 
oysters  hurtling  around  in  the  most  deadly  volleys  ;  and  if 
you  don't  find  me  bearing  myself  bravely,  then  never  be  your 
oriflamme  again  the  helmet  of  Navarre,  nevar !  nevar !  '  Oh 
no,  we  nevar  mention  her  ! ' '  Mr.  Whoppers  chuckled  heart 
ily  as  he  descended  the  stairs.  "  I  would  give  a  dollar,"  he 
exclaimed  to  Luther,  "  to  have  had  old  Ledgeral  hear  that. 
He  squirms  at  a  pun,  or  a  quotation,  or  a  quibble  of  any  kind 


1 82  NEVER  AGAIN. 

as  if  you'd  stuck  a  pin  in  him.  However,  I'll  contrive  to  give 
him  a  prick  or  two  before  I  get  through ;  I'll  pay  him  off  for 
his  condescension  in  asking  me  to-night." 

Joseph  threw  open  the  door  as  they  crossed  the  hall,  and 
announced  their  names  in  a  loud  and  distinct  tone,  and  the 
next  moment  Luther  stood  bowing  and  blushing  before  the 
ladies  of  the  house. 

The  stereotyped  smile  of  Mrs.  Ledgeral  expanded  into 
an  expression  of  mingled  surprise  and  pleasure  as  her  eyes 
fell  upon  Luther's  glowing  face.  She  graciously  extended  her 
hand  ;  murmured  a  few  words  of  welcome  ;  and  Luther  felt 
himself  wafted  onward  by  a  gentle  impulse  into  the  room. 

He  drew  himself  up  by  one  of  the  pilasters  of  the  folding- 
door  and  looked  around.  There  were  not  more  than  two  or 
three  dozen  of  people  in  the  room,  but  there  were  more  coming 
in,  and  to  Luther's  apprehension  there  was  to  be  quite  a 
crowd.  Not  that  it  made  any  difference  to  him  how  many 
there  were,  but  everybody,  so  far,  seemed  to  know  everybody, 
while  he  knew  nobody,  and  the  sense  of  social  nonentity  is  so 
much  enhanced  in  a  large  assembly.  Besides,  if  there  were 
to  be  so  many  people,  he  might  miss  the  only  object  he  had 
in  coming.  Where  was  she?  what  had  become  of  her? 
There  was  Miss  Ledgeral,  who  had  not  even  condescended  to 
look  at  him  when  he  entered  the  room.  He  knew  her  from 
the  resemblance,  and,  besides,  he  had  seen  her  several  times 
in  the  street,  but — 

"  Mr.  Lansdale  has  not  forgotten  me,  I  hope,"  said  a  low, 
softly-modulated  voice  at  his  side. 

Luther  turned.  Great  heavens,  what  a  vision  met  his 
eyes !  A  full-grown  and  in  every  way  quite  a  perfect  young 
woman  !  Lithe,  but  not  lathy  ;  somewhat  on  the  willow  pat 
tern,  as  becomes  a  very  young  woman  ;  but  with  a  waist  as 
unlike  that  of  a  wasp  as  is  the  waist  of  Venus  herself;  no  com 
pression  preventing  all  activity  of  digestion  and  nutrition,  and 
hampering  the  movements  of  lungs  and  heart ;  no  paintings  or 
pencillings  or  dyeings  or  powderings  or  paddings  ;  no  artificial 
cotton-wool  developments ;  no — well  there  is  no  necessity  of 


NEVER  AGAIN.  183 

enumerating  all  that  there  was  not;  inasmuch  as  Luther's 
knowledge  on  such  subjects  was  limited,  and  no  young  man  is 
supposed  to  be  able  to  understand  means  and  appliances ;  he 
can  only  recognize  results.  He  saw  the  smooth,  elastic,  well- 
nourished  skin,  and  caught  the  under-flash  of  the  deep  but 
delicate  flesh-tints  that  painters  find  it  so  hard  to  reproduce. 
No  thin,  shiny,  pink-and-white  cuticular  prettinesses ;  but  the 
delicate  bloom  of  a  Marguerite,  toned  by  the  deep  tints  that 
on  Raphael's  brush  touched  the  cheeks  and  bosom  of  the  For- 
narina.  He  saw  the  red,  ripe  lips,  slightly  parted,  and  throwing 
their  roseate  shadows  upon  two  gleaming  rows  of  Hygeia's 
white-coated  guards — those  best  indices  of  a  sound  constitu 
tion  and  a  good  digestion — that  no  dentist's  hand  would  have 
dared,  in  their  perfectness,  to  imitate.  He  saw  and  looked 
away  down  into  the  large  liquid  lustrous  gray  eyes  that  seemed 
almost  black  in  the  deep  shadows  of  their  long  lashes, — eyes 
full  of  an  expression  half  melancholy,  half  joyous  ;  an  intoxica 
ting  mixture  of  tenderness  and  archness, — eyes  that  seemed 
to  open  and  envelop  the  person  they  fell  upon  with  a  misty 
and  perfumed  mantle  of  love  and  mirth, — eyes  like  portals  to 
some  beautiful  palace  with  a  thousand  little  devils,  serious  and 
funny,  pathetic  and  comic,  struggling  with  each  other  for 
egress, — not  at  all  ox  eyes,  or  gazelle  eyes,  or  any  other  kind 
of  animal's  eyes.  They  were  eyes  that  without  any  further 
ungainly  straining  after  similes  can  best  be  described  by 
noting  one  of  their  effects :  there  was  not  an  old,  bald-headed, 
gray-bearded  sinner  in  society  who  did  not  silently  thank  God 
every  time  they  fell  upon  him. 

"  You  have  not  quite  forgotten  me  ?  "  she  said,  extending 
her  hand. 

"  Oh,  no  ! "  exclaimed  Luther,  as  he  shyly  touched  the  tips 
of  her  little  fingers.  "  How  could  I  ?  that  is,  I  hope,  that — 
that  you  could  not  think  it  possible, — but,"  he  added,  recover 
ing  by  a  mighty  effort  from  his  embarrassment,  "  if  I  had,  I 
don't  know  that  I  should  have  been  wholly  to  blame.  It  has 
been  so  very  long  since  I  have  seen  you,  and  you  have  changed 
so  much." 


1 84  NEVER   AGAIN. 

"  For  the  better,  I  hope,"  she  answered,  with  a  little  bend 
of  the  head  and  an  arch  sparkle  of  the  eye  ;  "  but  you  need  not 
reply,  I  know  the  formula  ;  I  hear  it  often  enough,  and  I  am 
not  fishing  for  a  compliment." 

"  No,  it  would  hardly  be  worth  while  to  make  a  cast  when 
you  have  only  to  dip  your  hand  in  and  select  the  finest  from 
the  whole  school." 

"  Well,  that  is  a  metaphor,"  laughed  Helen,  "  that  not  every 
young  lady  could  comprehend.  But  luckily  for  me  we  have  a 
trout-stream  on  our  place  on  Long  Island ;  so  I  can,  at  the 
same  time,  understand  the  figure,  and  feel  grateful  for  the  com 
pliment."  Helen  made  a  little  mock  curtesy  and  laughed 
merrily,  but  her  big  eyes  dropped  for  a  moment  beneath 
Luther's  ardent  gaze.  "  But  it  is  really,"  she  continued,  "  a 
long  time  since  we  last  met,  and  I  see  that  time  has  not  stood 
still  with  you  either." 

"  Not  stood  still  exactly.  He  has  been  somewhat  of  a 
laggard,"  said  Luther,  "  but  I  can't  complain,  as  to-night  '  he 
brings  in  his  revenges.'  " 

"  Well,  I  won't  be  quite  so  malicious,  or  so  out  of  the  fash 
ion,  as  to  quote  Shakespeare  back  at  you  and  say,  '  time  hath 
transfixed  the  flourish  set  on  youth,'  but  really  you  have 
changed  very  much." 

"  For  the  better,  I  hardly  dare  to  hope,  in  the  eyes  of  Miss 
Helen  Ledgeral." 

"  Now  you  are  fishing  for  a  compliment,  but  you  shan't 
catch  it  at  the  first  throw ;  I  was  only  going  to  say  that  when  I 
persuaded  Aunt  Shippen  to  send  you  an  invitation  I  hardly 
expected  to  see  such  an  old  gentleman." 

" '  Old,  but  with  eye  and  ear  full  sensed  as  yet 
To  all  her  matchless  beauty,  grace,  and  wit,' " 

murmured  Luther  in  a  low  tone,  but  giving  emphasis  to  the 
quotation  by  a  glance  of  intense,  eager  admiration. 

"  Aunt  Shippen's  beauty,  grace,  and  wit !  well,  I  will  tell 

her  the  compliment,"  laughed  Helen  ;  but  notwithstanding  her 

brave  and  mocking  tone,  her  cheeks  flushed  and  her  eyes  were 

cast  down  for  a  moment — she  felt  a  little  confused,  a  little  bil 

9 


NEVER  AGAIN.  ^5 

flurried,  but  certainly  not  displeased.  Here  was  something  in 
looks,  tone,  and  manner  evidently  quite  new, — so  different 
from  the  nonchalance  of  Mr.  Boggs  ;  the  unutterable  common 
place  of  Jencks  Jones ;  or  the  slang  and  downright  stupidity 
of  Billy  Dugan  and  Bob  Yadkins;  something  evidently  very- 
verdant,  unsophisticated  and  unfashionable  ;  ridiculous  even, 
— the  idea  of  quoting  Shakespeare !  but  something  fresh 
and  fragrant ;  something  that  seemed  to  speak  of  green  fields 
and  pastures  new  beyond  the  palings  of  Washington  Square  ; 
something  that  produced  an  expanding  sensation  in  and  about 
the  region  of  the  aorta  or  the  arteria  innominata  like  an  occa 
sional  line  of  Tennyson  or  Longfellow. 

We  mention  these  large  blood-vessels  to  avoid  saying  heart, 
as  the  heart  has  been  pretty  well  played  out  in  society  in  these 
days  ;  and  we  ought  perhaps  to  beg  pardon  for  a  strong  odor  of 
"  shop."  But  what  is  the  use  of  writing  M.  D.  to  one's  name, 
if,  after  the  letters  have  wholly  lost  all  dignity,  they  should  not 
confer  at  least  the  poor  privilege  of  being  once  in  a  while  a 
little  technical  and  anatomical  ? 

Helen  felt  herself  being  infolded  and  wrapped  up  in  an 
atmosphere  or  influence  of  tender  but  impassioned  solicitation, 
and,  for  the  first  time,  she  felt  an  inkling  of  that  mysterious 
sensation,  a  yearning  to  yield.  Suddenly  she  looked  up  with 
a  laugh. 

"  Come,  Mr.  Lansdale,"  she  said,"  this  will  never  do  ;  quot 
ing  poetry  in  the  drawing-room  is  against  the  rules.  Listen  tc 
the  conversation  going  on  around  us  ;  and  if  you  hear  anything 
poetical,  or  witty,  or  clever,  I'll  let  you  quote  the  whole  of 
your  commonplace  book  to  me  some  time.  Come,  I  want  to 
introduce  you  to  Aunt  Shippen.  It  seems  Uncle  Shippen 
has  taken  quite  a  liking  to  you." 

"  To  me  ! "  said  Luther  ;  "  why,  often  as  I  have  seen  him  in 
the  counting-room,  he  never  spoke  five  words  to  me." 

"That's  just  like  Uncle  Shippen.  He  doesn't  say  much, 
but  he  keeps  up  a  tremendous  thinking.  Haven't  you  been 
promoted  lately?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  was  custom-house  clerk  ;  looked  after  all  the 


1 86  NEVER  AGAIN. 

entries,  and  hurried  up  and  helped  the  custom-house  brokers 
and  store-keepers.  The  other  clay,  Mr.  Gainsby  said  that  he 
had  noticed  I  spent  a  good  deal  of  my  spare  time  in  studying 
the  samples  and  the  price-currents ;  and  he  wanted  to  know 
if  J  ;hought  I  could  undertake  to  fulfil  a  portion  of  the  buying 
orders.  I  told  him  that  I  would  do  my  best ;  so  I  at  once 
mounted  into  a  very  pleasant  position — mostly  out-door  work, 
and  when  I  am  through  with  my  day's  duties  I  am  through 
with  them, — no  lingering  office  work ;  and  when  business  is 
slack  I  have  a  good  deal  of  time  to  myself." 

"  You  may  depend  upon  it  that  was  Uncle  Shippen,'1  said 
Helen.  "  He  is  a  special  partner,  you  know,  and  he  don't  have 
anything  to  do  with  the  business.  Tisn't  right,  you  know,  and 
I  believe  the  law  won't  let  him  ;  but  he  knows  all  about  the 
clerks,  and  anything  he  recommends  will  be  done.  He  told 
Aunt  Shippen  to  ask  you  up  here  to-night.  I  was  proposing 
to  her  to  send  you  an  invitation,  and  he  said  '  Do  so,  my  clear ; 
he  looks  as  if  he  inherited  a  large  share  of  the  principle  of 
longevity.' " 

"  The  principle  of  longevity  !  "  exclaimed  Luther,  with  a 
look  and  tone  of  extreme  puzzlement. 

"  That's  the  phrase,"  laughed  Helen  ;  "  Uncle  Shippen  has 
it  in  his  mouth  very  often.  You  must  know  he  is  a  great  phi 
losopher  and  reformer ;  but  he  don't  believe  in  any  of  the 
reforms  that  are  advocated  nowadays.  He  says  that  the  true 
reform  is  a  reform  of  the  physical  constitution  of  man." 

"  A  good  idea,"  said  Luther  ;  "  but  I  don't  see  how  it  can 
be  carried  out." 

"  Nor  I  either,"  replied  Helen  ;  "  but  I  hear  uncle  talk 
a  great  deal  about  cultivating  the  principle  of  longevity.  Did 
you  ever  have  a  relative  that  lived  to  be  very  old  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  mother's  grandfather  lived  to  a  hundred  and  six." 

"  A  hundred  and  six !  Well,  your  fortune  is  made  with 
Uncle  Shippen.  I  wonder  if  he  could  have  heard  about  your 
great-grandfather.  Did  you  ever  tell  any  one  about  him 
lately  ? " 

"  Nobody  but  Mr.  Whoppers.     I  told  him  the  story  one 


NEVER  AGAIN.  !8? 

day.  I  don't  know  why,  for  the  story  is  not  very  creditable 
or  entertaining,  but  it  is  true,  and,  when  a  boy,  I  always  fan 
cied  there  was  something  funny  in  it." 

"Nothing  wrong,  I'm  sure,"  said  Helen.  "I  couldn't  be 
lieve  anything  wrong  of  a  man  who  had  lived  to  be  over  a 
hundred.  He  must  have  had  a  clear  conscience." 

"  Oh,  his  conscience  was  clear  enough,"  replied  Luther, 
"but  his  habits  were  not  the  very  best.  He  was  a  little  red 
headed  Scotchman,  and  was  very  fond  of  his  glass,  so  much 
so  that  during  the  last  half  of  his  long  life  he  was  never 
known  to  go  to  bed  'entirely  sober.'  That  was  my  mother's 
phrase  for  his  infirmity,  but  I  believe  they  had  to  put  him  to 
bed  every  night  quite  tipsy.  He,  however,  never  thought 
himself  intemperate,  but  rather  prided  himself  .upon  his  regu 
lar  habits.  The  best  of  men,  however,  will  yield  to  tempta 
tion  some  time  or  other,  if  they  live  long  enough ;  and  one 
night,  after  he  had  turned  his  hundredth  year,  he  forgot  him 
self,  and  drank  so  much  that  he  could  not  find  his  way  home. 
It  was  the  coldest  night  of  a  cold  winter,  and  the  old  gentle 
man  was  compelled  to  sleep  out  in  the  snow  and  ice,  on  the 
banks  of  the  Hudson,  a  mile  or  two  from  home.  The  next 
morning  they  found  him  frozen  stark  and  stiff,  but  with  hot 
blankets  outside,  and  hot  whiskey  within,  he  gradually  thawed 
out,  and  went  to  bed  that  night  as  jolly  as  ever.  Six  years 
more  of  regular  habits  proved  that  he  had  not  suffered  much 
from  the  exposure." 

"  Well  I  "  exclaimed  Helen,  "  that  is  the  very  story  I 
heard  Mr.  Whoppers  telling  Uncle  Shippen,  and  that,  you 
may  depend  upon  it,  is  the  real  reason  for  your  promotion." 

"  That  is  too  bad  in  you,  Miss  Ledgeral.  I  did  not  think 
you  would  be  so  unkind.  You  not  only  refuse  me  a  compli 
ment  which  you  accuse  me  of  fishing  for,  but  you  cut  away 
the  ground  of  a  compliment  that  I  was  paying  myself.  I 
supposed  that  my  promotion  was  due  to  an  exhibition  of  my 
own  virtues,  and  you  make  it  out  that  it  is  all  due  to  the  vir 
tues  of  my  ancestors.  But  any  way,  I  am  rejoiced  to  have  so 
much  more  time  for  study  and  amusement." 


t88  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"  And  is  writing  verses  a  study  or  an  amusement  ? " 

Luther  colored  at  the  imputation. 

"  Ah,  don't  be  surprised  or  frightened.  I  shan't  proclaim 
your  literary  sins.  I  received  a  copy  of  verses  with  some 
flowers  that  I  put  to  your  credit,  although  there  was  no 
name." 

"  And  have  you  nothing  to  give  me  in  return  ?  "  demanded 
Luther.  "  Mr.  Whoppers  tells  me  that  you  write  poetry, 
too.'1 

"  No,  no,  I  don't  pretend  to  write  poetry.  I  just  made 
some  rhymes  the  other  day,  and  Mr.  Whoppers  teased  me  to 
let  him  see  them." 

"  And  is  Mr.  Whoppers  to  be  more  favored  than  I  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  am  afraid  of  you — you  are  such  an  old  experienced 
poet.  Mr.  Whoppers  showed  me  some  verses  that  he  pub 
lished  in  the  Universe,  beginning — 

'  With  counters — not  with  coin,  ah  !  lady,  know, 
I've  ever  played  love's  game  with  cautious  art, 
But  reckless  now,  on  one  mad  desperate  throw, 
I've  ventured  all  the  treasures  of  my  heart.' 

He  wouldn't  tell  me  who  was  the  author,  but  I  was  sure  it 
was  you." 

"  And  why  sure  ?  "  demanded  Luther.  "  Because  you 
thought  they  expressed  sentiments  exactly  fitting  my  own 
case  ? " 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  replied  Helen,  laughing  and  blushing.  "  I  did 
not  suppose  you  such  an  experienced  gallant.  If  written  in 
earnest  I  should  think  they  would  imply  a  man  twice  your 
age,  and  one  who  had  been  in  love  half-a-dozen  times  ;  but  I 
know  how  often  poets  indulge  in  imaginary  trials  and 
troubles.  Mr.  Whoppers  tells  me  that  you  have  been  writ 
ing  some  verses  about  Imma  and  Englehard.  Do  you  think  it 
really  was  true  that  she  carried  her  lover  across  the  fresh 
fallen  snow,  in  the  court-yard  at  Aix-la-Chapelle,  with  Charle 
magne  looking  down  upon  her  ?  I  should  like  to  see  your 
version  of  the  story.  I  suppose  Mr.  Whoppers  will  publish 
them  ? " 


NEVER  AGAIN.  189 

"  Nothing  will  give  me  greater  delight  than  to  send  them 
to  you,  if  you  will  permit  me,  except  perhaps  one  thing." 

"  And  what  is  that  ?  " 

"That  you  will  let  me  see  some  of  your  verses." 

"  I  tell  you  that  I  am  afraid.  I  never  show  what  I  write 
to  anybody  ;  only  just  that  once  to  Mr.  Whoppers,  and  then 
he  laughed  at  me." 

"  You'll  find  me  a  much  more  sympathetic  critic." 

"  Will  you  tell  me  just  what  you  think  of  them  ?  " 

"  I  will,  truly." 

"  Well,  then." 

"  When  shall  I  get  them  ?  now  ?     Yes,  yes,  this  evening !  " 

"  Oh,  pshaw  !  we  must  go  now.  What  will  Aunt  Shippen 
say  ?  She  told  me  to  bring  you  up  and  introduce  you.  We 
are  going  to  dance  in  a  few  minutes." 

"  I  hope  I  am  to  have  the  honor  and  the  pleasure  of 
your  hand." 

"  Yes,  once." 

"  Only  once  ?  " 

"  Well  then,  twice.  I  have  saved  a  quadrille  and  a  galop 
for  you,  but  I  am  going  to  introduce  you  to  two  or  three  very 
nice  girls,  for  the  other  dances  ;  see  that  you  dance  and  talk 
and  flirt  your  best  now.  They  are  very  good  girls  ;  just  from 
boarding-school,  and  they  are  a  little  exigeantes ;  no  boy's  play 
will  suit  them." 

"  But,  Miss  Ledgeral,  you  frighten  me  ;  I  am  afraid  I 
shall  not  do  honor  to  your  presentation.  There's  Mr.  Boggs  ; 
I  see  him  over  there  talking  to  your  sister.  He  is  more  com 
petent,  I  should  think,  from  what  I  have  heard  Mr.  Whoppers 
say  of  him,  to  play  the  gallant  to  such  formidable  young 
ladies.  Permit  me  to  decline — " 

"  No,  no  ;  Mr.  Boggs  is  too  grand  a  being  for  us  girls. 
But  first  we'll  go  to  Aunt  Shippen." 

Helen  took  Luther*s  arm,  and  led  the  way  into  the  back 
room. 

Mr.  Whoppers  stopped  them  for  a  moment,  and  after  jest 
ingly  making  his  compliments  to  the  young  lady,  whispered 


190 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


in  Luther's  ear — "  Take  care,  young  one,  you  are  going  the 
pace  a  little  too  fast ;  you'll  have  the  eyes  of  all  in  the  room 
on  you  if  you  let  the  spoons  stick  out  at  every  wink  of  your 
eye, — poco  poco,  as  we  say  in  Spain  ;  there  now,  don't  flush 
up  like  a  young  turkey-cock.  Recollect  this  is  a  round  game  . 
papa  and  mamma  and  half-a-dozen  others  have  got  a  hand 
in  it,  and  you  can't  go  it  alone." 

Mr.  Whoppers  glided  off — bowing  and  smiling  and  shak 
ing  hands.  A  desperate  fellow  in  the  hand-shaking  line  was 
the  editor  of  the  Universe. 

"  I'd  like  to  give  him  one  good  clip  under  the  ear,"  mur 
mured  Luther  to  himself:  the  schoolboy's  phrase  for  a  sud 
den,  severe,  and  deserved  punishment  almost  flashing  out 
into  an  audible  threat.  The  next  moment  he  was  making 

his  bow  to  Aunt  Shippen. 

***** 

Aunt  Shippen,  net  Van  Scoutenhorn,  was  a  born  aristo 
crat,  and  she  looked  like  it, — not  like  the  aristocrat  of 
the  modern  novel,  but  like  the  aristocrat  of  actual  society, 
here,  or  in  the  noble  circles  of  European  society.  She 
was  not  quite  so  fat  and  ungainly  in  figure  as  the  Duch 
ess  of  Grasston,  or  as  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Lowclingtop ;  she  had 
not  such  big  hands  and  splay  feet  as  the  Countess  of  Dree- 
lincourt :  she  had  not  such  a  rough  and  parchmenty  skin  as 
the  Princess  of  Moestricht ;  she  had  not  such  a  coarse  voice, 
half  snuffle  and  half  screech,  as  Madame  La  Baronne  de  la 
Roche  Gammon,  but  she  was  nevertheless  a  born  aristocrat. 

She  could  count  back  her  ancestors  seven  or  eight  gene 
rations,  to  the  days  of  Walter  Von  Twiller ;  and  the  line,  like 
other  lines,  had  had  its  mutations.  The  beginning  was  per 
haps  involved  in  a  little  obscurity.  Dubious  rumor  spoke  of 
a  decaying  cooper's  shop  near  the  Visch  Markt,  in  Old  Am 
sterdam,  and  then  of  its  vigorous  offshoot  near  the  Vli  Markt 
in  the  New.  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  adventurous  cadet  of  the 
adz  and  hoop-pole  soon  erected  his  staff  or  staves  to  some 
purpose.  He  married  a  Ten  Broeck  ;  and  the  one-legged 
hero  of  Curacoa, — the  illustrious  Captain-General  of  all  the 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


191 


Dutch  transatlantic  provinces — Peter  Stuyvesant,  upon  his 
arrival,  found  a  Van  Scoutenhorn  a  foremost  burgher ;  a 
member  of  the  council ;  an  official  of  weight  and  substance  ; 
a  man  of  bigger  nether  garments,  longer  pipes,  and  more 
schnapps  than  any  other  in  New  Amsterdam.  Altogether  a 
right-worshipful,  and  weighty  man  ;  and  his  wife  and  daugh 
ters  leaders  in  the  very  van  of  fashionable  life. 

You  see  the  point  here  ?  It  is  all  the  same  as  when  some 
Coulthorp  goes  right  back  beyond  the  days  of  William  and 
Harold  to  the  time  of  Agricola,  and  calling  the  roll  of  Cen 
turions,  fastens  upon  the  veritable  Coultatus  who  started  his 
line ;  or  like  some  of  those  happy  souls  who  can  throw  the 
doomsday  survey  aside,  and  point  to  the  very  grounds  tilled 
by  their  great-grandfathers  in  the  time  of  Canute,  or  out  of 
which  they  were  hustled  during  the  troubles  of  the  Heptar 
chy.  Talk  of  the  Conquest !  Pshaw !  that  is  very,  very 
modern.  Curiosity  once  induced  some  genealogical  inquiries 
in  Normandy  as  to  one  of  the  adventurous  seigneurs  who  vis 
ited  England  under  the  auspices  of  William.  "  Yes,  I  recol 
lect,"  said  our  venerable  informant,  a  citizen  of  Caen,  "that 
a  cadet  did  accompany  the  Conqueror.  His  name  is  upon 
the  monument  erected  not  many  years  ago  in  commemora 
tion  of  the  expedition,  but  I  have  never  kept  the  run  of  that 
younger  branch  of  the  family.  You  see  we  go  directly  back 
beyond  Rollo,  and  not  being  compelled  to  stop  at  the  time 
of  the  great  duke  and  English  king,  I  have  never  thought 
to  make  any  inquiry  about  our  English  collaterals." 

In  this  way  the  Van  Scoutenhorns  dated  back  beyond  the 
Anglo-Saxon  conquest  of  New  Amsterdam,  beyond  the  gov 
ernorship  of  Peter  the  Testy,  into  the  autocthonic  times  of 
Walter  the  Doubter.  Then  came  the  Conquest — the  great 
Peter  retired  in  sulky  dignity  to  his  bowerie,  and  then  and 
there  planted  the  famous  pear-tree  in  whose  shadows  have 
rested  his  descendants  to  the  present  day.  The  Van  Scout 
enhorns  remained  active  traders  and  good  subjects  under 
the  English  dynasty,  but,  in  the  third  or  fourth  generation, 
misfortune  came  and  pushed  the  family  down  from  the  glories 


192 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


of  a  big  brick  trading  and  dwelling-house  in  Coenties  Slip  to 
a  small  market-garden  away  out  of  town.  But,  in  the  time  of 
Mrs.  Shippen's  grandfather,  there  was  again  a  change.  The 
city  grew  and  grew,  and  with  insatiate  fury  overleaping  all 
presupposed  bounds,  gobbled  up  the  garden  grounds  of  the 
Van  Scoutenhorns  and  turned  them  into  a  beautiful  and 
easily  digested  mass  of  twenty-five  foot  lots.  The  yield  was 
tremendous  ;  garden  "  sass  "  was  nowhere  ;  early  radishes 
and  green  peas  got  their  go-by ;  and  the  different  families  of 
the  Tuberosa — Solanum  and  Lycope-rsicum — bloomed  no 
longer  ;  no  not  even  in  the  memory  of  a  Van  Scoutenhorn. 

Miss  Van  Scoutenhorn  was  a  belle  and  a  beauty  after  her 
kind,  and  as  she  had  some  money,  it  was  somewhat  surprising 
to  her  friends  that  she  should  step  a  little  out  of  her  set  to 
marry  young  Shippen.  But  she  knew  what  she  was  about. 
She  was  not,  perhaps,  desperately  in  love,  but  the  liking  was 
sufficiently  strong  and  mutual.  What  cared  she  what  society 
said ?  She'd  let  society  know  that  she'd  do  as  she  pleased  ; 
she'd  walk  over  it  and  through  it,  and  make  it  get  down  on  its 
knees  to  any  man  whose  name  she  should  see  fit  to  adopt. 
She  felt  her  position ;  and  she  knew  her  powers  of  attack 
when  supported  by  the  inexhaustible  affluence  which  the  vig 
orous  and  rising  merchant  was  sure  to  attain. 

Van  Amburg  entering  the  den  of  wild  animals  with  a  heavy 
iron  bar  close  at  hand  in  case  of  any  outburst  of  fury,  was  a 
favorite  figure  of  hers.  "  It  is  not  alone  the  iron  rod  that  is 
necessary  in  such  a  case,"  she  used  to  say ;  "  he  must  have  an 
iron  heart  and  muscles  of  steel ;  and  so  in  going  among  the 
bears  and  lions  and  jackals  of  society  you  must  have  a  big  bar 
of  gold,  and  the  will  and  the  strength  and  the  skill  to  use  it ; 
swing  it  deftly  and  whack  away  right  and  left  stoutly,  and  you 
can  make  the  wild  beasts  dance  to  any  tune  you  please." 

One  thing  was  wanting  to  Mrs.  Shippen's  happiness  ;  she 
had  no  children.  And  this  had  led  to  her  seizing  upon  and 
almost  wholly  appropriating  her  husband's  niece,  Helen  Ledg- 
eral.  At  least  half  of  the  young  girl's  time  was  spent  at  her 
aunt's ;  and  even  when  residing  at  home  it  came  to  be  tacitly 


NEVER  AGAIN, 


193 


admitted  that  no  one  was  to  have  anything  to  say  as  to  her 
general  and  particular  training,  her  studies,  her  dressing,  her 
amusements,  except  Uncle  and  Aunt  Shippen.  Lucky  girl, 
one  may  exclaim,  to  have  been  subjected  to  such  influences, 
to  have  been  released  from  the  feeble,  vacillating  sway  of  ego 
tistic  and  selfish,  but  over  indulgent,  parental  affection, — the 
chief  characteristic  of  American  households, — to  have  been 
saved  from  the  pretentious  and  demoralizing  slip-slop,  or 
worse,  of  the  boarding-school,  or  the  depuderizing  freedoms 
of  the  watering-place  hotel. 

But  it  would  be  wrong  to  keep  Luther,  modest  youth  as  he 
was,  bowing  too  long ;  although  he  had  a  rare  talent  for  bow 
ing  gracefully — the  natural  product  of  his  withy  and  compact 
figure. 

Aunt  Shippen  held  out  her  hand  graciously ;  she  would 
have  done  that  to  almost  any  young  man  to  whom  she  had 
vouchsafed  a  presentation.  In  most  cases  the  movement  did 
not  mean  much.  Her  style  was  the  complaisant  and  the  con 
descending,  she  could  not  be  rude  or  even  brusque,  except  to 
pretentious,  pushing  vulgarity,  and  besides  she  had  a  pretty 
hand,  and  a  graceful  movement  of  the  wrist  and  elbow ;  and 
the  manual  salutation,  when  rightly  managed,  admits  of  such 
a  variety  of  expression,  from  the  languid  indifference  of  the 
extreme  finger-tip,  to  the  cordial  grasp  of  profound  esteem, 
and  so  on  up  to  the  rapturous  devotion  of  the  perfectly  invol 
untary  grip  d  deux  mains. 

In  Luther's  case  the  salutation  grew  more  cordial  as  her 
glance  took  in  more  fully  his  fine  face  and  figure.  In  truth, 
youth  and  good  looks  will  have  their  influence,  even  with 
women  of  fifty, — perhaps  all  the  more  because  they  are  women 
of  fifty, — something  of  the  motherly  qualifying  the  admiration, 
and  more  than  making  up  for  any  decreased  sensibility  to  the 
influence  of  matured  masculine  charms. 

She  drew  Luther  down  to  a  seat  on  the  sofa  beside  her. 

"  So  you  are  the  hero  of  the  steamboat  adventure,"  she 
said.  "  I  have  heard  of  you  very  often,  and  I  hear  a  very 
good  report  of  you." 


194 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


"I  feel  very  much  flattered,"  stammered  Luther,  blushing 
and  bowing,  "but  I  can  be  called  the  hero  only  by  way  of 
ridicule,  as  I  did  nothing  heroic,  and  had  nothing  to  do  with 
it  but  as  a  sufferer  in  common  with  others." 

"Ah,  sensible,  but  sensitive,  I  see,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Ship- 
pen.  "  Well  I  won't  call  you  a  hero  again,  unless  you  do 
something  very  grand  to  deserve  it.  But  if  not  a  hero,  I 
hear  that  you  are  a  very  well  conducted  young  man,  and  an 
excellent  clerk,  and  that  you  are  clever  with  your  pen  too. 
Don't  let  it  run  away  with  you  :  you  want  to  be  rich,  I  sup 
pose  ? " 

"  Who  does  not  in  this  age  of  the  world,  and  in  this  com 
munity  ?  "  demanded  Luther,  with  a  smile.  "  I  am  not  beyond 
or  above  the  influences  that  surround  me.  I  hope  to  be  rich. 
I  intend  to  be  rich." 

"  Rich !  well  you  can't  help  wishing  to  be  rich,  I  suppose, 
but  is  that  all?  Have  you  no  ideal  beyond  that?  Ah,  I 
know  you  have,  and  I  should  be  sorry  for  you  if  you  had  not, 
but  don't  let  your  ideal  lead  you  out  of  the  road  at  first." 

"  You  think  that  the  best  way  is  to  get  money  first,  and 
follow  the  ideal  afterwards  ?  "  said  Luther. 

"  Yes  ;  there  is  one  trouble  about  that,  however.  By  the 
time  the  money  is  got,  the  ideal  is  apt  to  slip  away  from  one, 
and  there  is  nothing  left  but  the  poor  and  bald  reality  of 
wealth ; — you  must  guard  against  that.  Better  get  hold  of 
some  hobby  and  ride  it  to  death,  as  Mr.  Shippen  does,  than  to 
sit  down  as  many  of  our  rich  men  do  in  sheer  weariness  upon 
their  money-bags,  and  give  up  all  kinds  of  intellectual  exer 
tion  and  all  efforts,  or  even  wishes,  for  mental  or  moral  im 
provement." 

"Will  you  allow  me  to  ask,"  demanded  Luther,  "what 
kind  of  a  hobby  Mr.  Shippen  pleases  himself  with  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  should  have  said  hobbies,"  replied  Mrs.  Shippen. 
"  You  know  he  is  connected  with  the  firm  only  as  special 
partner.  He  has  no  business  to  occupy  him,  and  sometimes 
he  mounts  one  hobby  and  sometimes  another.  He  thinks 
himself  something  of  a  scholar  and  something  of  a  philoso- 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


195 


pher.  His  present  hobby  is  the  physical  regeneration  and 
improvement  of  the  human  race." 

"  I  suppose  that  means  the  improvement  of  the  physical 
conditions  of  human  life,"  said  Luther,  hesitatingly. 

"  No,  I  rather  think  that  he  is  in  favor  of  letting  the  sad 
conditions  of  human  life  work  out  their  final  results.  He  has 
borrowed  some  nonsense  about  the  necessity  of  a  struggle  for 
existence,  and  all  that  kind  of  thing.  But  we  won't  get  into  a 
discussion  of  the  subject.  'Tisn't  exactly  a  topic  for  the 
drawing-room,"  said  Mrs.  Shippen,  smiling.  "  Your  name," 
she  continued,  "  seems  quite  familiar  to  me.  I  do  not  mean 
from  your  adventure,  or  your  connection  with  the  affairs  of 
the  firm.  I  have  some  associations  with  your  name  that  date 
from  much  further  back.  I  knew  a  good  many  years  ago  a 
Col.  Samuel  Lansdale :  he  was  once  quite  a  society-man. 
Was  he  a  relative  of  yours  ?  I  have  not  seen  or  heard  any 
thing  of  him  for  a  long  time." 

"  I  presume,"  said  Luther,  "  that  you  have  reference  to 
my  father.  He  has  been  dead  for  a  number  of  years." 

"  Oh  yes,  it  seems  to  me  now  that  I  remember  to  have 
heard  of  his  death." 

The  conversation  continued  for  a  few  minutes  in  relation 
to  Luther's  family,  and  to  his  own  adventures  since  his  arrival 
in  New  York.  Aunt  Shippen  put  a  good  many  kind  inquiries 
as  to  his  duties  and  his  amusements,  and  encouraged  him  in 
the  expression  of  some  of  his  general  tastes  and  likings,  until 
they  were  interrupted  by  a  movement  among  the  younger 
people,  which  indicated  the  opening  of  the  dance. 

Helen  rushed  up  to  her  aunt.  "  Oh,  aunty,  I  want  Mr. 
Lansdale  as  a  partner  for  Julia  Been.  I  have  promised  him 
to  her.  Come  and  let  me  present  you." 

"  My  dear,"  interrupted  Aunt  Shippen,  "  one  moment. 
Three  things,"  and  she  held  up  her  finger  with  a  gesture  and 
look  of  mock  severity.  "  First,  don't  rush  so.  Walk  ;  don't 
run  ;  leave  that  to  that  Thompson  girl ;  next,  don't  speak 
quite  so  loud  ;  leave  that  to  your  friends  the  Trelawnys  ;  and 
as  to  young  girls  dragging  young  gentlemen  round  helter- 


196  NEVER  AC  A IX. 

skelter  and  introducing  them  to  other  young  girls,  just  leave 
that  to  your  sister  and  Miss  Yadkins.  I'll  take  Mr.  Lans- 
dale  across  to  Miss  Deen  and  introduce  him." 

Aunt  Shippen  rose  and  took  Luther's  arm. 

"  I  was  in  hopes,"  whispered  Luther  to  Helen,  "  that  you 
were  coming  to  claim  me  as  a  partner  for  yourself." 

"  I  don't  claim  my  partners — they  claim  me,"  replied 
Helen,  with  a  saucy  little  nod  of  the  head. 

"  True,  in  general ;  but  when  the  partner  is  nothing  but 
a  slave — the  veriest  slave,  you  could  condescend  to  order 
him." 

"Slaves  can  wait." 
'  Until  when  ?  "  demanded  Luther. 

"Well,  until  the  third  dance  after  this." 

"  I  suppose  you  think,"  said  Aunt  Shippen,  "  that  I  am 
quite  a  dragon  ;  but  when  I  see  the  way  the  young  people 
are  going  on  nowadays,  I  can't  help  getting  really  provoked. 
I  am  not  at  all  an  advocate  for  undue  restraint,  but  I  think 
a  little  pretension  to  youthful  feminine  delicacy  ;  a  small 
modicum  of  modesty  and  gentleness  ;  a  few  indications  of  a 
lingering  respect  for  the  notions  and  feelings  of  people  who 
have  attained  the  venerable  age  of  thirty-five  years  and  up 
wards  ;  wouldn't  be  too  much  to  ask.  Do  you  think  it  would, 
Mr.  Whoppers  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  as  the  Editor  of  the  Universe 
checked  his  bustling  and  erratic  movements  for  a  moment  at 
her  side. 

"  Certainly  not.  'Ask  and  it  shall  be  granted  unto  you.' 
Beg  pardon — no  irreverence  :  the  quotation  slipped  out ;  but 
what  is  it  about  ? " 

"  I  don't  suppose  you  meant  any  irreverence,  Mr.  Whop 
pers.  We  all  know  your  weakness  in  the  matter  of  quota 
tions.  But  in  this  case  it  was  singularly  unfortunate  and  in 
applicable.  You  may  ask  as  much  as  you  please  and  you 
will  get  no  consideration  or  politeness  out  of  the  rising  gener 
ation,  with  some  few  exceptions.  I  was  lecturing  this  young 
gentleman  upon  the  present  style  of  manners.  Not  that  I 
think  he  particularly  needs  it." 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


197 


"  Bow,  Luther !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers.  "  Why  don't 
you  bow  ?  that  is  a  nice  compliment ;  and  from  such  a  source  ! 
If  it  were  my  case,  I  should  have  to  go  down  on  my  knees — 
but  I  see  !  a  blush  will  do  as  well !  A  lecture  upon  the  pres 
ent  style  of  manners  may  be  unnecessary,  but  it  could  not 
have  been  tiresome  ;  it  must  have  been  short ;  almost  as  short 
as  Archbishop  Pontipidian's  celebrated  chapter  on  snakes  in 
Iceland:  '  There  are  no  snakes  in  Iceland.'  Lecture  by  Mrs. 
Shippen  on  the  Manners  of  Young  America :  '  Young  Amer 
ica  has  no  manners,  and  it  is  growing  more  so  every  day.' 
There  is  but  one  remedy,  Mrs.  Shippen.  Let  all  the  middle- 
aged  people  rise  in  revolution  and  exterminate  the  young 
ones." 

"  Another  massacre  of  the  innocents,"  suggested  Luther. 

"  Hardly,  for  if  we  should  all  turn  Herods  I  don't  know 
where  we  would  find  the  innocents.  No,  it  isn't  another  He 
rod  that  we  want ;  it  is  a  little  more  of  the-rod.  Ha!  ha! 
that's  good,  isn't  it  ?  I  must  find  my  friend  Ledgeral,  and 
stick  it  into  him  ;  I'll  demonstrate  to  him  that  if  we  could  once 
restore  the-rod,  we  could  divide  it  into  the  he-rod  and  the  she- 
rod,  and  tickle  the  innocents  into  good  manners  without  quite 
killing  them." 

"  Mr.  Whoppers  is  a  friend  of  yours  ? "  demanded  Mrs. 
Shippen  of  Luther. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Luther  hesitatingly ;  and  for  an  instant 
that  meanest,  most  unmanly,  and  yet  most  common  of  all  sen 
timents — the  fear  of  compromising  one's  self  in  the  opinion 
of  some  social  potentate  or  power,  tempered  his  tone  of  voice. 
'Twas  but  for  an  instant.  He  had  a  good  natural  fund  of 
honest  moral  courage ;  besides,  he  had  studied  Thackeray  on 
snobs  ;  and  come  what  might,  he  was  not  going  to  sacrifice  to 
fashion,  or  opinion,  or  personal  influence,  his  firm  convictions 
or  his  honest  sentiments,  and  make  himself  a  contemptible, 
heartless,  characterless  social  flunky.  No,  not  he  ;  and  the 
blush  with  which  he  continued  in  a  more  firm  tone,  was  due 
rather  to  shame  at  his  momentary  weakness  than  to  any  sense 
of  Mr.  Whoppers'  fashionable  shortcomings.  "Yes,  Mr. 


198  NEVER  AGAIN. 

Whoppers  is  my  friend,  I  am  very  happy  to  say,  and  a  very 
good  and  useful  friend  he  has  been  to  me.  We  live  together 
in  the  same  house." 

Aunt  Shippen  was  a  woman  of  the  world,  and  had  had  too 
much  social  experience  not  to  comprehend  from  Luther's  tone 
and  looks  exactly  what  was  passing  through  his  mind.  She 
gave  him  a  glance  of  increasing  admiration,  as  she  replied: 
'*  Mr.  Whoppers,  I  believe,  is  a  very  reputable  man.  I  don't 
like  his  class  or  his  profession  ;  but  I  suppose  there  is  a  differ 
ence  among  editors  and  reporters.  I  don't  know  much  about 
them  personally  ;  but  by  what  I  can  see  of  what  they  call  the 
amenities  of  journalism,  I  should  judge  that  in  general  they  have 
more  talent  than  taste,  more  wit  than  manners.  However, 
there  must  be  exceptions,  and  some  of  them  are  unquestion 
ably  gentlemen.  Mr.  Whoppers  is  well  enough  ;  and,  some 
times,  a  very  faulty  friend  may  be  a  very  useful  one  to  a  young 
man,  if  a  discrimination  is  made  between  the  good  qualities 
and  the  faults  ;  between  what  to  admire  or  imitate,  and  what 
to  condemn  and  avoid.  Mr.  Whoppers'  manner  and  style,  you 
see  for  yourself,  is  not  as  quiet  and  polished  as  it  might  be  ;  a 
little  more  suavity  and  a  little  more  reticence  would  improve 
him.  But  here  is  your  partner  ;  I  suppose  it  won't  do  to  keep 
so  important  a  person  as  a  girl  just  from  boarding-school  wait 
ing  any  longer." 


CHAPTER  XL 

A  Neologist — Uncle  Shippen  takes  Luther's  Measure — Joseph's  Device — • 
The  Cardinal's  Tears — Miss  Yaclkins  and  the  Baronet — Cure  for  the 
English  Accent — Helen's  Poetry — A  Terrible  Mistake — A  First 
Lesson  in  French. 

THE  sudden  introduction  to  each  other  of  two  practised 
people  of  the  world,  when  neither  one  has  the  slightest 
knowledge  of  the  other's  antecedents,  or  the  slightest  clue  to 
the  occupations,  opinions,  or  tastes  of  his  opponent,  is  fre 
quently  a  very  awkward  affair.  It  reminds  one  of  the  famous 
duel  in  the  dark,  which  has  so  often  been  dished  up  in  various 
forms  for  the  delectation  of  sensation-lovers. 

Luckily  Luther  and  his  partner,  like  all  young  people  of 
their  ages,  were  not  very  dangerously  armed ;  and  a  contest 
with  headless  lances,  pointless  swords,  and  small  potato  pop 
guns  is  hardly  worth  describing.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  Luther 
acquitted  himself  quite  to  his  partner's  satisfaction,  if  not 
entirely  to  his  own,  albeit  there  were  none  of  those  brilliant 
sallies,  epigrammatical  flashes  and  witty  repartees  the  very 
youngest  people  of  the  modern  novel  are  apt  to  indulge  in. 

Luther's  shortcomings  were  partly  owing  to  mental  preoc 
cupation.  He  could  not  keep  his  mind,  and  occasionally  his 
eye,  from  wandering  to  another  set,  where  the  graceful  form 
of  Helen  Ledgeral  was  floating  about  in  a  foam  of  white  tulle. 
Luckily  the  dance  is  not  exacting  in  the  way  of  conversation, 
and  his  partner  did  not  perceive  his  distraction.  One  can 
caper,  slide,  bow,  smile  and  simper  in  almost  any  state  of  the 
head  or  heart.  That  is  the  great  advantage  of  the  dance  for 
very  young  people,  who  in  general  have  no  conversation. 
What  would  they  do  without  it  ?  Think  of  it,  ye  who  would 
proscribe  it  totally  because  some  of  its  forms  are  of  question- 


2oo  NEVER  AGA1X. 

able  decency,  or  because  with  an  older  set  it  is  often  a  cover, 
or  perhaps  an  incitement,  to  dangerous  flirting  or  downright 
intrigue. 

Luther  bowed  his  partner  to  her  seat,  and  was  withdrawing, 
when  he  felt  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder ;  and  turning,  found 
himself  confronted  by  a  small,  stout,  elderly  gentleman  in  blue 
broadcloth  and  white  waistcoat  of  the  olden  pattern,  across 
which  diagonalized  a  broad  black  ribbon,  which  might  have 
been  mistaken  for  some  foreign  order,  but  which  merely  served 
to  support  a  pair  of  tortoise-shell  eye-glasses.  A  thick  pad 
ded  neckcloth  encircled  a  stiff  shirt-collar,  which,  extending 
upon  both  cheeks  to  an  utterly  unfashionable  height,  enclosed 
almost  half  of  the  bald  head.  This  alone  would  have  been  a 
protest  against  the  modern  style  of  men's  attire,  but  this  pro 
test  was  deepened  into  an  expression  of  absolute  contempt  by 
a  shirt-frill  crimped  with  great  skill  and  care.  One  involunta 
rily  looked  at  the  hand  for  lace  ruffles  ;  and  even  breeches 
and  silk  stockings  would  have  astonished  nobody.  But  if  dis 
appointed  in  these,  the  eyes  were  more  than  gratified  by  the 
sight  of  a  wide,  high  coat-collar,  and  brass  waist-buttons  up 
nearly  to  the  shoulders. 

And  this  was  a  neologist !  Yes,  Uncle  Shippen  was  a 
neologist ;  and  this  intense  conservatism  or  old-fogyism  in 
outward  dress  was  nothing  but  a  kind  of  balance  to  the  new 
ness  of  his  mental  habillements.  The  latest  cut  in  theory  and 
opinion  he  demanded  for  his  ideas  ;  for  his  body,  his  tailor 
must  not  vary  a  hair's  breadth  from  the  fashions  of  fifty  years 
ago.  The  latest  teachings  in  every  department  of  science 
were  his  delight.  The  doctrine  of  the  correlation  of  forces 
and  the  theory  of  evolution  were  too  well  settled  to  afford 
much  exercise  to  his  faculties,  but  spontaneous  generation  had 
been  a  fruitful  field.  He  had  wandered  from  Pasteur  to  Bas- 
tian  over  and  over  again,  and  under  the  latest  telescopic  and 
spectroscopic  investigations  he  had  changed  his  opinion  of  the 
constitution  of  the  sun  at  least  half-a-dozen  times. 

Motioning  to  Luther  to  follow  him,  he  led  the  way  into  and 
across  the  hall,  and  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  indicated  a  chair 


NEVER  AGAIN.  201 

just  within  the  dining-room  door.  A  wreath  or  rope  of 
flowers  across  the  entrance  was  old  Joseph's  device  for  intima 
ting  that  the  magnificent  spectacle  of  cut  glass,  flowers,  fruit 
and  spun-sugar  was  "tabooed  "  until,  at  the  proper  time,  and  at 
his  own  good  pleasure,  he  should  see  fit  to  load  the  sparkling 
board  with  the  hot  smoking  substantiate  of  the  supper. 

Luther  of  course  hesitated  to  enter,  but  Uncle  Shippen 
raised  the  barrier.  "  Come  in,  come  in  here,"  he  exclaimed  ; 
''  we  shall  be  quite  alone  here.  Now  sir,  sit  down,"  and  sud 
denly  putting  his  hand  into  his  coat-pocket  he  pulled  out  a 
formidable  pair  of  calipers  and  opened  them.  "  Now  sir,  per 
mit  me.  Sit  still,  sir,  sit  still !  " 

Luther  did  not  know  whether  to  sit  still  or  to  jump  up  and 
make  a  dash  for  the  parlor.  The  old  gentleman  was  mad  evi 
dently,  and  was  going  to  try  some  surgical  operation  on  him  ; 
or  perhaps  he  was  a  freemason,  and  was  going  to  initiate  him 
on  the  spot ;  or  may  be  a  missionary,  and  about  to  perform 
some  religious  rite  ;  or  could  it  be  that  this  was  one  of  the 
customs  of  good  society  ? 

Curiosity  held  him  undecided  for  a  minute,  but  that  was 
enough.  Uncle  Shippen  applied  the  points  of  the  calipers  to 
his  temples,  and  starting  back,  adjusted  his  eye-glass,  and  read 
off  the  figures  on  the  slide. 

"  Nearly  six  inches  !  "  he  exclaimed  in  the  tone  of  one  who 
had  made  some  happy  discovery.  "  I  thought  so  ;  and  now,  sir, 
from  the  root  of  the  nose  to  the  orifice  of  the  ear.  There, 
there.  Splendid  !  I  knew  it.  You  get  it  from  your  great 
grandfather — and  let  me  see,  a  perpendicular  from  a  circle 
cutting  the  head  through  the  eyebrow  and  the  occipital  pro 
tuberance  to  the  orifice  of  the  ear  must  be  at  least  an  inch 
and  three-quarters  :  and  the  ear  itself  soft,  yet  firm  as  leather," 
and  the  old  gentleman  pulled  away  at  the  young  man's  ear, — 
Luther  sitting  perfectly  quiet  and  booking  up  with  a  sense  of 
the  comical  beginning  to  qualify  somewhat  his  fright  and 
astonishment. 

"Permit  me,"  continued  Uncle  Shippen;  and  suddenly 
producing  and  unrolling  a  tape  measure,  he  held  one  end  of  it 
9 


202  NEVER  AC  A IX. 

on  the  front  edge  of  the  chair  with  one  hand,  and  stretched  the 
other  up  to  the  top  of  Luthers  breast-bone.  "  Good  heavens, 
sir !  over  twenty-six  inches,  and  full-chested  besides  !  Go,  sir, 
and  thank  heaven  for  such  a  rich  inheritance  from  your  great 
grandfather.  A  hundred  and  six  !  just  to  think  of  it!  I  knew 
it — I  knew  the  indications  must  correspond/'  muttered  the  old 
gentleman.  "  I  will  watch  that  fellow  ;  he  must  not  throw  his 
great  inheritance  away  upon  anything  in  the  feeble  vitality  and 
deficient  longevity  line." 

"  So  you  have  been  under  Uncle  Shippen's  calipers,"  said 
Heien.  "  I  saw  him  take  you  aside.  He  is  just  the  best  dear 
old  uncle  that  ever  any  one  had  ;  but  he  will  produce  those 
awful  measuring  instruments  at  the  most  awkward  times.  I 
hope  your  indications  were  all  right?" 

"  Indications  of  what  ? " 

"  Of  longevity  !  Do  you  know  that  Uncle  Shippen  can 
tell  you  just  how  long  your  life  will  last  ?  Isn't  it  awful  ?" 

"  I  should  prefer  to  have  him  tell  me  how  long  this  happi 
ness  will  last." 

"  What  happiness  ? " 

"  The  happiness  of  this  dance  ;  I  hear  the  first  bars  of  a 
waltz,  I  believe  it  is  my  turn  now." 

"Oh,  I  can  tell  you  that.     Just  one  turn." 

"  Let  it  be  a  long  one,  then,"  said  Luther,  as  he  passed  his 
arm  around  her  waist  and  led  off  with  a  peculiarly  easy  and 
vigorous  step  that  is  always  a  rare  endowment  of  nature,  rather 
than  a  product  of  art. 

"  Who  is  he  ? "  demanded  Mrs.  Struggles  of  Miss  Ledgeral. 

"  Oh,  he's  nothing  but  one  of  papa's  clerks,"  replied  that 
young  lady  with  a  slight  curl  of  her  lips.  "  I  suppose  it's 
some  of  Aunt  Shippen's  doings." 

"  It's  a  pity,  my  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  Struggles,  "  that  your 
Aunt  Shippen  was  not  a  little  more  considerate  of  people's 
feelings  ;  she  ought  to  keep  common  people,  young  and  old,  in 
their  place.  It  is  very  awkward  meeting  persons  you  don't 
want  to  know." 

Miss  Ledgeral  gave  Mrs.  Struggles   a   swift   supercilious 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


203 


glance,  and  turned  away  without  making  any  reply.  Her  ex 
pression,  could  it  have  been  interpreted  in  words,  would  have 
simply  said  :  "  You  are  a  pretty  one  to  talk  about  common 
people  ;  and,  if  I  find  fault  with  Aunt  Shippen,  I  am  not  going 
to  permit  you  to  do  so  too." 

Mrs.  Struggles  understood  it  all ;  but  she  was  used  to  snubs, 
and  was  quite  willing  to  submit  to  them  from  some  quarters, 
since  through  the  favor  of  her  friend  Mrs.  Ledgeral  she  had 
attained  a  certain  hold  in  society  which  enabled  her  to  snub 
a  good  many  people  formerly  her  betters,  in  return. 

Joseph  had  at  last  condescended  to  order  the  barrier  of 
evergreens  and  flowers  removed  from  the  dining-room  door. 
The  announcement  that  supper-time  had  arrived  was  received 
with  a  degree  of  languor  and  indifference  that  quite  astonished 
Luther,  after  the  experience  he  had  had  at  two  or  three  alder- 
manic  balls  to  which  he  had  been  invited,  at  the  instance  of 
Mr.  Whoppers,  and  from  an  extensive  study  of  the  manners 
and  customs  of  American  society  in  the  pages  of  British  writ 
ers  who  have  visited  this  countiy,  and  of  many  equally  good 
authorities  who  have  not.  Still  the  clash  and  clatter  grew, 
and  the  movement  towards  the  supper-room  increased  in 
volume,  until  there  was,  as  Mr.  Whoppers  said,  jam  enough 
for  twice  the  bread  and  butter — a  case  of  jam  satis.  "Don't 
be  in  a  hurry,  my  dear  fellow,"  he  continued,  tapping  Luther 
on  the  shoulder.  "  Help  the  ladies,  but  don't  eat  anything 
yet  yourself:  a  little  gallantry  now  is  a  good  investment  at 
the  price.  It's  a  case  of  virtue  its  own  reward,  you  know. 
Joseph  is  reserving  a  dish  of  hot  terrapin  for  the  last,  and  he 
won't  open  that  Latour  Blanche  till  I  give  him  the  wink. 
Watch  Boggs,  he  knows  the  ropes ;  you  won't  see  him  eat 
anything  until  the  feminine  feeders  are  filled." 

The  hubbub  increases,  everybody  is  talking,  which  is  not 
at  all  strange ;  but  eveiybody  is  eating,  which  is  a  little 
strange,  considering  that,  not  one  in  ten  of  the  guests 
would  dream  of  going  to  bed  on  a  hot  supper  at  home,  from 
a  wholesome  fear,  or  perhaps  a  positive  assurance,  that  they 
would  drj  :in  pretty  thoroughly  upon  it  afterwards. 


204 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


Luther  looks  around  for  Miss  Helen  Ledgeral.  Alas  i 
there  is  no  chance  for  him :  half-a-dozen  gray-haired  fellows 
have  almost  struggled  for  the  preference,  and  she  is  in  the 
centre  of  a  group  of  old  fogies,  who,  allured  by  her  smiles, 
hop  out  of  their  holes  of  selfish  habit,  as  lively  as  toads  in  the 
spring  sunshine. 

It  is  rather  a  good  sign  when  a  young  girl  is  able  to  ex 
cite  the  rusty  gallantry  of  "  grave  and  reverend  seigniors  :  "  to 
interest  them,  make  them  talk,  and  exert  themselves  to  enter 
tain  her.  It  is  rather  a  good  sign,  inasmuch  as  it  indicates  a 
certain  esprit  which  all  girls  do  not  have  ;  and  a  certain  ad 
mixture  of  sense  and  sensibility.  It  indicates  that  the  abso 
lute  and  universal  in  youthful  feminine  attractions  is  not  en 
tirely  overlaid  by  the  temporary  conventionalities,  the  immedi 
ate  youthful  whims,  fantasies  and  fashions  of  the  hour. 

Luther  sees  that  there  is  no  chance  for  him  at  the  moment, 
and  he  therefore  resigns  himself  to  Miss  Julia  Deen  ;  but,  her 
wants  supplied,  he  suddenly  dashes  with  generous  gallantry 
to  the  aid  of  two  elderly  ladies  who  seem  to  him  to  have  less 
attention  paid  them  than  the  others ;  and  makes  himself  very 
active  in  supplying  their  wants  ;  very  much  to  their  astonish 
ment,  but  evidently  not  at  all  to  their  displeasure.  Poor  fel 
low  !  he  is  so  unsophisticated — so  very  verdant,  it  is  quite 
excusable  in  him.  With  his  limited  social  experience,  how 
can  he  know  that  middle-aged  or  elderly  females  have  no 
claim  upon  youth  of  any  kind  :  and  that  it  is  not  etiquette,  if 
they  are  plain  and  not  very  fashionable,  and  don't  keep  houses 
of  entertainment,  to  treat  them  with  any  attention,  or  even  to 
offer  to  save  them  from  absolute  starvation  by  even  so  much 
as  a  single  meringue  or  an  ice.  An  encouraging  smile  from 
Helen,  which  he  catches  over  the  mass  of  heads,  would  have 
rewarded  him,  even  had  he  fully  known  what  an  oddity  he 
was  making  of  himself. 

Relieved  after  a  while  from  his  duties  of  waiter,  Luther 
amuses  himself  by  listening  to  the  conversation  going  on 
around  him.  He  tries  to  catch  it  as  it  falls  on  either  side  of 
him,  and  a  queer  jumble  he  makes  of  it.  Let  us  follow  him 


NEVER  AGAIN.  205 

for  a  moment  as  he  flits  from  group  to  group.  Nothing  would 
be  more  absurd  than  to  attempt  to  give  the  chaff,  the  slang, 
the  personal  gossip  and  the  social  cant,  having  meaning  and 
point  only  to  the  ears  of  "  our  set,"  which  passes  as  conver 
sation  at  balls  and  parties — most  of  it  commonplace,  a  good 
deal  of  it  stupid  and  utterly  inane.  There  is,  however,  some 
times  here  and  there  a  group  of  interesting  people,  and,  if 
you  listen  closely,  now  and  then  a  remark  that  strikes  and 
sticks.  There  is,  for  instance,  old  Rhindergelt  with  a  heaped 
up  plate  of  oysters  and  chicken  salad  in  his  hand  ;  he  is  an 
able  man,  and  interesting,  if  you  like  his  line  of  talk :  "  I 
tell  you  what  I'll  do ;  I  !11  sell  you  a  call,  buyer  thirty,  for  a 
thousand  shares  for  a  thousand  dollars  \  You  think  that  the 
preferred  is  going  up.  Maybe,  but  the  common  is  bound  to 
fall  off  ten  per  cent,  in  the  next  ten  days.  Now  mind  I  tell 
you." 

You  don't  like  such  kind  of  talk  for  the  drawing-room  ? 
Ah  I  I  see  you  don't ;  you  turn  away,  you  don't  appreciate 
it  I  if  you  did  you  would  go  right  down  the  next  morning  and 
invest  in  the  common  stock  of  Arkansas  Central,  and  perhaps 
turn  an  honest  penny  or  two  before  dinner. 

Well,  you  need  not  listen  to  it— it  is  exceptional  at  best. 
But  hark  I  here  is  something  about  art — not  very  profound 
perhaps,  but  still  it  is  pleasant  to  hear  a  pretty  girl  expatiate 
upon  Turner,  and  Durand,  and  Kensett,  and  Church,  and  Bier- 
stadt,  and  the  Academy,  and  the  Metropolitan  Art  Gallery, 
even  if  the  epithets  charming,  lovely,  beautiful,  are  sprinkled 
about  a  little  too  freely.  And  then  here  is  something  I 
What  animation  I  you  can't  catch  it  all,  only  now  and  then  a 
word,  but  the  subject  is  clear  :  the  Opera, — Parepa-Rosa, — 
Nilsson,— Verdi,— Wagner, — music  of  the  future, — Beethoven's 
Mass  in  D, — the  Eroica, — symphony  in  C.  Very  good,  indeed, 
and  quite  bearable,  inasmuch  as  the  soupfon  of  '  Shakespeare 
and  the  musical  glasses'  is  so  very  slight.  And  then  books 
— the  last  novel.  "  You  don't  like  Trollope  ?  "  "  No,  I'm 
getting  tired  of  him."  "  But  he  is  so  natural."  "  True,  but 
he  writes  too  much.  Toujours  perdrix^  you  know — ha  \  ha  \ 


206  NEVER  AGAIN. 

Give  me  George  Eliot's  last  book — splendid !  powerful ! 
women  novelists  !  beat  the  men,"  and  then  a  confused  jumble 
of  names — Charles  Reade, — Browning, — Swinburne.  "  Oh 
horrid  !  no  lady  ;  I  don't  care — I  read  him.  Greatest  poet  1 
Hawthorne, — Longfellow, — and  Mrs.  Stowe." 

It  takes  the  group  about  twenty  minutes  to  run  through 
the  whole  circle  of  modern  literature. 

Luther  turns  away  to  another  group,  attracted  by  the  tones 
of  a  loud  and  clear  voice  pronouncing  the  name  of  Dickens. 
It  was  the  voice  of  Uncle  Shippen.  "  Now  I  lay  this  down, 
sir,  as  a  fundamental  test  of  longevity — that  if  a  book  which 
has  given  me  great  delight  at  its  first  appearance,  say  twenty 
years  ago,  upon  a  second  reading,  after  that  or  a  longer  inter 
val,  still  continues  to  give  me  as  much  or  more  delight,  that 
book  has  the  principle  of  longevity  in  a  high  state  of  concen 
tration.  But  if  upon  the  second  reading  I  find  that  it  falls 
far  short  of  my  first  conceptions — if  I  find  the  characters  are 
not  what  I  had  supposed  them  to  be- — that  they  are  absurd 
and  rather  coarse  exaggerations;  in  a  word,  if  I  find  that,  how 
ever  clever  it  may  be,  it  does  not  come  up  to  the  idea  I  had 
at  first  formed,  then,  sir,  I  doubt  whether  that  book  has  that 
principle  of  longevity  that  will  carry  it  much  beyond  its  own 
generation  into  the  coming  ages.  You  see  the  lapse  of  twenty 
years  serves  as  a  base-line,  and  having  the  angle  of  my  first 
conceptions,  I  take  the  angle  of  my  last  conceptions,  and  a 
perpendicular  from  the  point  of  intersection  to  the  base  indi 
cates  the  probable  longevity  of  the  book." 

"  That  is,"  interposes  Mr.  Whoppers,  "  you  act  as  a  kind 
of  posterity  to  your  own  conceptions — you  father  your  own 
grandfather,  and  become  a  son  to  yourself." 

There  is  no  sense  or  point  in  this  observation,  but  when 
ever  Mr.  Whoppers  puts  in  his  word  there  is  always  a  dispo 
sition  to  laugh. 

"Now  take  Dickens'  books,"  continues  Uncle  Shippen, 
unheeding  the  impertinent  interruption,  "  and  apply  this  test, 
and  I  think  you  will  find  that  they  do  not  comprise  a  body  of 
literature  that  will  live  forever." 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


207 


To  this  opinion  there  are  several  dissenters,  and  the  dis 
cussion  branches  off  in  various  directions.  Martin  Chuzzlewit 
is  mentioned.  "  How  do  you  like  the  American  scenes  ?  " 
"  Poor,  sir,  comically  poor !  But  the  most  comical  thing  is 
that  an  apology  should  have  been  thought  necessary.  I 
never  saw  or  heard  yet  of  an  American  who  has  expressed 
the  slightest  anger  at  them.  Many  a  one  has  felt  provoked 
with  Dickens  that  he  did  not  put  more  point  and  force  and  truth 
in  them — there  was  such  a  good  chance,  and  no  one  would  have 
objected  to  the  lash  well  laid  on,  even  if  it  did  tingle  his  own 
hide  a  little  ;  but  all  Dickens'  American  work  is  so  dauby 
that  there  is  no  light  of  consciousness  in  which  we  can  hang 
it  that  makes  it  look  like  a  picture  at  all.  It  is  a  kind  of 
thrashing  roundabout  with  a  ridiculous  old  broom-handle, 
rather  than  a  raw-hide.  He  reminds  one  of  a  blind  teamster, 
— he  whirls  his  whip  around  his  head  quite  vigorously,  and 
makes  a  devil  of  a  cracking,  but  never  really  touches  the  raw. 

"  Ah !  the  best  plan  for  us  would  be  to  import  the  whole 
star!  of  the  Saturday.  They  would  walk  into  us.  Here's  to 
their  health,"  continues  the  speaker,  refilling  his  glass  of 
champagne.  "  I  won't  say  more  power  to  their  arm,  for  they 
have  enough  of  it,  but  more  knowledge  to  their  noddles." 

"  I  should  say  that  the  Blackwood  fellows  would  be  the 
best ;  we  never  have  been  touched  up  properly  yet,  and  there 
is  a  clever  malignity  about  them  that  would  send  their  sneers 
home  if  they  were  only  aimed  right." 

"  It  would  be  of  no  use  ;  they  would  bring  their  ideal 
Yankee  with  them,  and  content  themselves  with  sticking  pins 
into  the  poor  devil  forever,  leaving  our  hides  unscratched." 

"  Well,  we  could  at  least  disabuse  them  of  one  notion 
which  is  about* as  thoroughly  ingrained  into  John  Bull's  mind 
as  any  conception  of  things  transatlantic  can  well  be,  and  that 
is,  that  we  are  so  sensitive  as  to  what  is  said  and  thought  of 
us  across  the  water.  It  was  perhaps  so  once,  but  times  have 
changed.  We  have  gone  through  three  wars.  The  first 
achieved  our  political  independence,  the  second  achieved  our 
mercantile  independence,  and  our  last  grand  affair  has  pretty 


208  NEVER   AGAIN. 

effectually  achieved  our  social  independence.  I  don't  think 
that  we  shall  ever  take  much  offence  at  what  our  kind  cousins 
may  see  fit  to  say  of  us  in  future." 

"  Oh !  we  never  did  take  offence  at  what  they  said.  There 
is  the  great  mistake  which  they  have  always  made.  If  we 
have  been  offended  it  has  been  at  the  way  the  thing  is  said. 
They  cry  '  Don't  wince,  my  dear  fellow.  Don't  we  satirize 
and  abuse,  and  ridicule  and  blackguard  people,  and  manners, 
and  customs,  and  matters  and  things  in  general,  at  home  just 
as  freely?'  Ah,  so  you  do,  Mr.  Bull,  and  the  Lord  knows  you 
have  mighty  good  room  and  reason  for  it.  But  the  difference 
is  just  this:  that  when  you  show  up  the  coarseness  and  brutal 
ity,  and  vulgarity,  and  criminality  of  your  own  household,  there 
is  always  some  epithet  or  allusion — something  said,  or  perhaps 
something  not  said — something  in  the  tone,  which  enables  a 
reader  to  understand  that  the  satire  or  the  sneer  does  not 
apply  to  everybody  or  everything  in  the  tight  little  island, — but 
when  you  come  to  cut  up  your  cousins  you  make  one  general 
and  universal  mass  of  mince-meat  of 'em." 

"You  mean,"  interrupts  Mr.  Whoppers,  "that  Bull  would 
do  so  if  his  hatchet  were  heavy  enough  and  the  handle  of 
sufficient  length." 

"  Exactly !  but  he  does  his  level  best.  He  hacks  away 
without  apparently  the  slightest  shadow  of  an  idea  that  there 
is  the  least  refinement  of  mind  or  manner,  elevation  of  feeling, 
culture,  taste,  honesty,  pure  diction  or  sound  English  in  the 
whole  country." 

"  That  reminds  me,"  interposes  one  of  the  group,  "  of  a 
story  of  Washington  Allston,  as  told  by  one  of  the  English 
men  present  at  the  scene.  Allston  was  the  only  American 
among  a  large  party,  one  of  whom,  sneering  at  America  and 
Americans,  observed  that  he  had  never  seen  an  American 
gentleman.  Allston  rose  from  his  seat,  straightened  himself 
up,  and  in  a  quiet  and  composed  tone  said,  '  Sir,  /  am  an 
American  gentleman.'  The  sensation  was  marked,  and  cor 
dially  sympathetic,  and  the  amplest  apologies  atoned  for 
what  was,  of  course,  as  they  were  all  gentlemen,  the  result  of 


NEVER   AGAIN.  209 

carelessness  or  forgetfulness,  rather  than  of  conscious  inso 
lence." 

"  Oh,  I'll  tell  you,"  exclaims  Mr.  Whoppers,  "  how  it  is. 
The  Judge  here  hasn't  more  than  half  explained  the  matter. 
You  see  it  all  comes  of  the  newspapers.  I'll  show  you  just 
how  it  is,  there  isn't  a  squib,  sneer,  lie,  slander  nor  piece  of 
ridicule,  satire  or  abuse  of  any  kind  in  the  English  journals 
that  is  not  at  once  transferred  to  our  papers,  and  read  by  hun 
dreds  of  thousands.  We  like  it — so  far  so  good  ;  but  what 
galls  us  is  that  we  can't  get  in  a  lick  in  return.  We  have  no 
way  of  blackguarding  back.  Look  at  the  boys  :  one  calls  the 
other  a  scallawag;  what  a  satisfaction  it  is  to  the  juvenile 
mind  to  reply  '  You're  another.'  '  I'll  slap  your  chops  for  you.' 
'If  ye  do,  you'll  get  yer  nose  smashed.'  Everything  is  all  set 
tled,  because  that  account  is  perfectly  square — it  balances 
exactly." 

"  Ha !  ha  !  I  see  what  Whoppers  is  after :  he  wants  to 
get  us  to  raise  a  fund  for  printing  a  hundred  thousand  copies 
of  the  Universe  for  gratuitous  distribution  over  the  water." 

"  The  best  thing  you  could  do,"  cries  Mr.  Whopper ;  "  no 
missionary  work  equal  to  it !  I'd  enlighten  'em.  I'd  pitch 
into  them — vulgarity,  brutality,  general  beastliness,  bad  man 
ners,  universal  cant,  confirmed  philistinism,  crime,  pauper 
ism,  rlunkyism,  horrid  accent,  corrupt  English,  and  diaboli 
cal  grammar !  I'd  give  'em  as  good  as  they  send,  and  I'd 
produce  a  cordial  state  of  feeling  between  the  two  countries 
in  six  months'  time  that  would  render  any  real  disagreement 
between  them  impossible.  We  wouldn't  have  any  more  am 
bassadors,  or  ministers,  or  high  commissioners,  or  private 
self-appointed  representatives  of  the  two  nations  standing  up 
at  dinner-tables  and  slopping  over  their  twaddle  about  blood 
and  race  and  community  of  language  and  confraternity  of 
feeling,  and  all  that  stuff." 

"  Ha  !  ha !  suppose  we  raise  a  few  hundred  thousand, 
and  hand  the  money  over  to  Whoppers?  Who'll  head  the 
list  with  ten  thousand  ? " 

"  He  don't  get  a  cent  from  me,  unless  he  promises  to  go 
M 


210  NEVER  AGAIN. 

straight   for   the    '  bloated   aristocracy,' — that's  the  veritable 
American  bugaboo, — ha  !  ha  !  ha." 

Luther  had  listened  long  enough  to  the  loitering  old 
fogies  of  the  supper-room,  and  was  turning  away  when  a  deli 
cate  attention  from  Joseph  arrested  him  on  his  way  to  the 
parlors.  "  Looker  heah,  sar.  I  observe  dat  you  don't  took 
nothing  'cepting  one  glass  ob  Champagne.  Dat  is  berry  ob- 
stemerous,  and  I  like  to  see  it  in  a  young  man,  but,  sar,  I  got 
just  one  bottle  here  ob  Maderie  dat  I'm  gwine  to  open.  Born 
sar  in  de  last  centuary.  Dey  call  it  de  '  Cardinal's  tears.'  It 
was  out  in  de  monks'  celler  at  Goa  for  elebben  years.  De  old 
gem  men's  wine,  sar.  I  nebber  let  young  Missir  Courtland 
hab  more  den  one  bottle  at  a  time.  I  say,  Shaw !  what's  de 
use  of  throwing  pearls  before  hogs,  eh  !  'Taint  appreciumated 
'cepting  by  jus'  a  few  fellars,  like  de  old  Judge  dare.  Please 
step  dis  way,  sar." 

"  But,"  objected  Luther,  "  I  don't  know  anything  about 
wine  :  I  couldn't  tell  Madeira  from  Sherry." 

"  Dat's  jess  it.  Dat's  why  I  gib  it  to  you.  Jess  so  dat 
when  somebody  axes  your  'pinion  some  time  you  can  say, 
'Well,  purty  good, — but — but — it  don't  quite  come  up  to  de 
Goa  wine  ob  '86.' ''  And  Joseph  smacked  his  lips  and  shut 
his  eyes  and  rolled  his  head  as  if  he  was  in  all  the  agonies  of 
connoisseurship.  "  I  gib  you  dis  glass  furs,  cause  dose  old 
fellars  'specting  someting..  Dey  know  what's  coming,  and 
once  I  say,  '  Judge,  de  Cardinal  waits  for  you,'  you  wouldn't 
stand  no  more  chance  dan  a  little  wiggle-waggle  in  a  pailful 
of  pollywogs." 

Luther  wanders  into  the  parlors.  Where  is  she  ?  He 
can  see  nothing  of  her.  The  lights  ;  the  music  ;  the  babble 
of  voices  ;  the  crush;  the  confusion  seem  to  have  increased; 
although  the  crowd  is  really  thinning  out ;  and  a  number  of 
people  are  hurrying  up-stairs  to  the  dressing-room,  and  sev 
eral  shawled  and  cloaked  figures  can  be  seen  in  the  hall. 

A  small,  but  rather  stylish-looking  girl,  with  a  very  inno 
cent  expression  of  countenance,  is  standing  close  beside  him. 
Luther  recognizes  her  as  the  noted  Minnie  Yadkins.  Mr. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  2Ii 

Whoppers  had  pointed  her  out  to  him  in  the  early  part  of  the 
evening.  She  is  talking  with  a  tall,  handsome  specimen  of 
English  aristocracy,  Sir  Charles  Flukes,  who  has  just  arrived. 
He  is  decidedly  lucky  in  falling,  at  his  first  party,  into  the 
hands  of  so  accomplished  an  artist  as  Miss  Minnie  Yadkins. 
That  is,  however,  as  people  may  think. 

His  style, — made  up  for  the  market, — is  most  praise 
worthy.  It  may  be  described  as  the  I-don't-believe-it-awl,  you 
know — the  desirous-of-instruction  and  open-to-conviction — 
in  fact,  the  conciliatory  and  condescendingly  inquiring — style. 
Clearly  he  was  determined  to  see  for  himself  whether  the 
Americans  really  do  spit  the  flowers  and  figures  of  their 
Moquettes  and  Axminsters  out  of  sight ;  or  endanger  the  mass 
ive  bronzes,  or  the  delicate  Dresden  and  Wedgwood  ware  of 
their  mantel-pieces,  with  their  boot-heels. 

Luther  listens  with  all  his  ears. 

"  I  observe  with  great  pleasure,  Miss  Yadkins,  that  the 
Americans  speak  much  better  English  than  I  had  supposed." 

"  Indeed !  Oh,  I  am  so  delighted.  We  have  improved, 
very  much  improved,  of  late  years.  Do  you  know  it  was 
formerly  very  difficult  for  you  English  to  understand  us.  I'll 
tell  you  a  veritable  story.  When  I  was  a  little  girl,  a  good 
many  years  ago,  we  were  all  staying  at  the  Hotel  des  Alpes  at 
Interlachen.  The  large  drawing-room  of  the  hotel  was  filled, 
and  I  was  sitting  by  a  fine-looking,  grandly-dressed  English 
woman,  and  my  sister  was  at  the  other  side  of  the  room  talk 
ing  to  the  son  of  this  lady.  At  length  the  young  fellow  came 
towards  us.  '  George,' said  his  mother,  '  who  is  that  you  were 
talking  to  just  now  ? '  '  Oh,  that's  an  American  girl.'  '  An 
American  girl  !  why,  could  you  understand  her  ? '  '  Oh  yes,  I 
could  make  out  to  understand  her.  She  speaks  a  devil  of  a 
jargon,  to  be  sure,  but  I  could  understand  her  notwith 
standing.  '  You  find  no  difficulty  in  understanding  us — do 
you,  Sir  Charles  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Miss  Yadkins  !  not  the  least,  I  assure  you.  Really 
now,  I  quite  comprehend  everything  that  I  hear.  Aw,  'pon 
my  honor  now,  I  don't  find  the  accent  so  bad,  so — so  strong. 


212  NEVER  AGAIN. 

I  mean,  and  the  grammar — really  now,  the  grammai  is  quite 
— 1  will  say  really  now — quite  respectable." 

"  Ah,  you  flatter  us,"  and  the  young  lady  gave  him  one  of 
her  most  beaming  smiles.  "  But  I  believe  you  are  right 
about  the  accent.  It  is  not  so  very  strong.  It  is  not  really 
as  strong  as  the  English  accent — is  it,  Sir  Charles?  " 

"  English  accent !  Miss  Yadkins  ;  I  never  heard  of  an 
English  accent.  You  mean  the  cockney  accent,  or  perhaps 
some  of  the  provincial  dialects,  now  ?  " 

"  No,  I  mean  the  true  upper-class  English  accent." 

"  Ah  !  'pon  my  word.     I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing." 

"  Never  !  Oh,  I  have  heard  of  it ;  and  have  heard  it  often. 
It's  very  funny  to  an  American  ear,  but  I  suppose  you  get 
accustomed  to  it  when  you  are  so  young  that  you  never  per 
ceive  it.  It  can  be  cured,  I  believe — can't  it,  Sir  Charles?" 

"  Cured  !  Miss  Yadkins,  cured  !  the  English  accent !  God 
bless  me  !  Never  heard  of  such  a  thing  !  " 

"  Never !  why  that  is  strange.  Never  heard  of  the  red- 
riannel  cure?  Why  the  Marquis  of  Hunterround  told  me  all 
about  it  when  he  was  here.  He  said  it  was  first  tried  on  the 
Duke  of  Cambridge.  When  he  was  young  Prince  George, 
and  stationed  at  Gibraltar  years  ago,  he  made  a  visit  to  Tan 
gier,  and  a  large  party  was  got  up  to  give  him  a  day  or  two's 
boar-huntin-g.  Well,  all  the  Consulates  turned  out  strong, 
and  among  them  the  American  Consulate,  and  among  the 
Americans  there  was  a  Dr.  Jimpson — a  very  learned  man. 
He  knew  everything  about  languages.  I  believe  he  had 
written  a  grammar  of  the  Aryan  language,  and  a  great  many 
books  that  no  young  lady  could  be  expected  to  remember  the 
names  of.  Well,  Prince  George  of  Cambridge  got  very  inti 
mate  with  him,  and  one  day  the  Prince  complained  to  the 
Doctor  that  he  had  that  disagreeable  English  accent  so  strong. 
'Why,  I  can  tell  your  Royal  Highness  what  will  cure  it,'  said 
the  Doctor.  The  Prince  begged  to  know  what  it  was.  '  Why, 
all  you  have  to  do,'  said  the  Doctor,  '  is  to  carry  a  good- sized 
piece  of  red  flannel  in  your  mouth  for  six  months  :  at  the  end 
of  that  time  you  will  find  yourself  completely  relieved.'  And 


NEVER  AGAIN.  213 

the  Marquis  says  that  the  Prince  did  so  ;  and  that  now  he 
enunciates  in  a  very  pure  tone,  and  speaks  quite  distinctly  ; 
but  whenever  he  finds  the  accents  around  him  too  strong,  and 
that  there  is  danger  of  his  relapsing,  he  goes  right  off  and 
stuffs  his  mouth  with  a  piece  of  red  flannel  for  a  week  or  so. 
Strange  you  never  heard  of  it,  Sir  Charles." 

Sir  Charles  puts  his  hand  to  his  head  with  a  clasping 
movement  as  if  to  keep  his  brains  from  gushing  out  upon  the 
spot. 

"  The  Duke  of  Cambridge — aw!  aw!  Red  flannel  !  Bless 
me!  I — I — never — never!  Good  Heavens  !" 

If  Sir  Charles  is  slightly  confounded,  Luther  is  still  more 
so.  Luckily  he  at  this  moment  catches  sight  of  Helen  Ledg- 
eral  and  seizes  his  opportunity. 

"  You  have  been  enjoying  yourself,  I  hope,  "  said  Helen, 
"  and  have  been  doing  your  duty  to  the  young  ladies  to  whom 
I  presented  you  ? " 

"  Oh  yes,  I  have  done  my  best,  but  I  don't  know  but 
that  I  must  plead  guilty  to  a  little  distraction,  and  perhaps 
negligence." 

"  How  so  ?  " 

"  Why,  in  the  first  place,  I  have  been  led  away  into  listen 
ing  to  the  conversation  going  on  around  me  ;  and  in  the 
second  place,  I  have  been  very  much  employed  in  trying  to 
find  you  for  a  moment  disengaged." 

"  Oh,  you  know  I  am  part  hostess  here  to-night,  and  I 
have  to  spread  myself  around  among  the  young  ones  as  much 
as  I  can." 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  alone  the  young  ones,  but  it  is  the  old  ones 
as  well,  that  have  prevented  my  asking  you  if  I  am  not  to 
have  one  more  dance." 

But  why  stop  to  detail  a  conversation  without  especial  mean 
ing  or  point,  and  that,  even  to  the  speakers  themselves,  is  care 
less  and  inconsequent  ?  If  one  could  photograph  a  couple  of 
souls  peeping  out  from  behind  consciousness,  and  watching 
each  other  with  swift  electric  comprehensive  glances,  and 
gathering  in,  unbeknown  to  their  owners,  a  thousand  little 


214 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


manifestations — the  germs  of  sentiment  which  sooner  or 
later  will  fructify  into  all  the  splendor  of  conscious  passion, 
— if  one  could  photograph  them,  and  a  nice  little  vignette 
take  the  place  of  a  long  wordy  description,  it  would,  per 
haps,  be  worth  while  to  make  the  attempt  upon  the  reader's 
sympathy. 

The  quadrille  came  to  an  end,  and  Luther  led  his  partner 
into  the  hall  for  a  walk.  By  great  good  luck  there  was  no 
clamoring  for  her  attention.  The  library  door  stood  open  : 
what  more  natural  than  that  they  should  wander  into  the 
room  ?  it  was  quite  deserted. 

"  Miss  Helen,"  exclaimed  Luther,  "  do  you  know  that  it  is 
more  than  two  years  since  I  came  into  this  room  with  nothing 
hut  your  friendly  influence  between  me  and  starvation?  And 
now  I  stand  here  again,  and  nothing  but  the  same  friendly  in 
fluence  between  me  and  a  worse  kind  of  starvation — a  starv 
ation  of  mind  and  soul.  You  will  exert  that  friendly  in 
fluence,  won't  you,  and — and — let  me  see  you  sometimes — once 
in  a  great  while?" 

"  Why,  I  will  do  the  best  I  can,"  replied  Helen  ;  "but  it  all 
depends  upon  Aunt  Shippen  and  mamma.  You  dance  well, 
and  you  are  so  very  obliging  with  the  very  young  girls  and  the 
very  old  women,  and  Julia  Deen  says  she  likes  you  so  much 
as  a  partner,  that  I  don't  know ;  but,  however,  I  can't  prom 
ise  you  anything." 

"  But  you  have  promised  me  something — and  that  is  the 
sonnet  that  Mr.  Whoppers  was  telling  me  about.  When  and 
how  shall  I  get  it  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  I  don't  know  that  I  promised.  And  it  was  very 
wrong  in  Mr.  Whoppers  to  tell  you  that  I  have  even  tried  to 
make  verses.  I  just  showed  him  a  few  lines  once,  and  he 
laughed  at  me,  and  sister  and  mother  laughed  at  me,  and  T 
made  a  vow  I  never  would  let  anybody  see  any  of  my  scrib- 
lings  again.  And  I  don't  know  how  it  was  that  I  let  Mr. 
Whoppers  see  my  sonnet :  but  he  said  he  wanted  to  see  whether 
I  had  got  over  the  bread-and-butter  phase — and  I  thought  it 
pretty  good,  as  good  as  many  things  he  publishes  in  the  Uni- 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


215 


verse,  and  so,  just  out  of  spite,  I  showed  it  to  him.  But  I 
don't  know  about  you.  You  are  such  a  poet !  Yet  I  should 
like  to  have  your  opinion.  Of  course,  my  verses  don't  amount 
to  much  as  poetry,  and  the  sonnet  is  so  difficult.  It  is  just  a 
foolish  thought  I  had  about  the  sea  ever  trying  to  lift  itself  in 
vapor  to  the  sky,  and  being  ever  drawn  back  in  showers.  But 
I  can't  send  it  to  you,  you  know." 

The  discussion  continued  for  a  few  minutes,  Luther  press 
ing  the  point,  until  Helen  suddenly  exclaimed,  "  Well,  I'll 
tell  you  what — if  you  won't  laugh  at  it !  You  promise  ?  I'll 
run  up-stairs  and  get  it,  and  you  can  take  it  now ;  and  as  to 
your  legend  of  Charlemagne,  I  want  to  see  that  so  much — 
you  can  call  here  in  a  day  or  two  to  leave  your  card — it  won't 
be  expected  of  you, — but  it  will  be  a  proper  thing  for  you  to 
do,  and  you  can  hand  my  sonnet,  as  well  as  your  verses,  to 
Joseph." 

"  And  you  are  not  going  to  give  it  to  me  ?  "  demanded 
Luther. 

"  No,  I  am  not.  I  am  only  going  to  show  it  to  you, 
because  I  can't  show  it  to  anybody  else." 

"  But  if  I  should  retain  a  copy  ? " 

"  Oh  well,  if  you  will  do  such  a  mean  thing  as  that,  I  sup 
pose  I  must  have  my  revenge.  I  will  learn  your  poem  by 
heart,"  said  Helen,  laughing  and  making  a  movement  for  the 
door. 

"  And  put  it  away  with  all  that  store  of  Shakespeare,  and 
Spenser  and  Herbert,  and  Wordsworth  and  Tennyson,  and 
Longfellow  and  Bryant,"  exclaimed  Luther.  "  Oh,  that  would 
be  revenge  indeed.  I  should  feel  the  ridicule  to  my  finger 
tips.  I  should  never  be  able  to  hold  pen  again  for  any 
figures,  except  figures  of  arithmetic." 

Helen  bounded  up-stairs  to  her  room,  and  in  a  moment 
was  back  again.  An  instinctive  feeling  led  her  to  understand 
that,  as  it  had  to  be  done,  it  had  better  be  done  quickly,  be 
fore  any  loungers  happened  into  the  library,  who — as  she 
could  only  do  it  openly  and  before  all  present — might  not  be 
able  to  distinguish  from  the  back  of  the  envelope  whether  it 


216  NEVEK    AGAI.\'. 

contained  a  billet-doux  or  a  harmless  copy  of  verses.  But  io 
her  hurry  she  made  an  awful  mistake. 

"  Come,  young  ones,  time's  up,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers. 
"  Luther  and  myself  to  our  dens,  and  you,  Miss  Helen,  to 
tread  alone  a  banquet-hall  deserted — eh  !  I  wonder  how  a 
party-giver  feels  when  the  guests  have  all  fled,  and  the  music 
is  all  dead — very  much  like  going  to  bed,  I  suppose.  I  must 
give  a  party  myself  some  day.  If  I  only  had  a  Mrs.  Whop 
pers  to  assist." 

"  Why  don't  you  propose  to  " — 

"  Oh,  Miss  Helen !  for  you  to  say  that !  Why  don't 
I  propose  ?  That's  cruel ;  you  know  you  wouldn't  ac 
cept  me.  Good-night,  good-night — permit  me  to  say  '  my 
dearest.'  I  have  had  a  glorious  time  ;  but  so  short — so  fleet 
ing.  '  But  'tis  ever  thus  since  childhood's  hours.'  Ah  yes, 
how  '  noiseless  falls  the  foot  of  Time  that  only  treads  on 
flowers.'  " 

Mr.  Whoppers  shook  his  head  in  a  melancholy  way,  and 
pulled  out  his  watch.  "  I'll  take  a  note  of  time,"  he  contin 
ued,  "  and  when  found,  make  a  note  of  it  and  get  it  dis 
counted  and  proceeds  put  to  my  great  account.  '  The  bell 
strikes  one.'  Let  us  see  now  what  time  of  night  is  it,  lad  ? 
But  all  that  is  very  superfluous.  Come,  Luther,  let  us  go." 

Evidently  Joseph  had  opened  that  bottle  of  Latour 
Blanche  that  Mr.  Whoppers  had  talked  about. 

"  I  call  tell  you  what,  young  man,"  said  Mr.  Whoppers,  as 
he  bade  Luther  good-night,  at  the  door  of  his  apartment, 
and  stood  for  a  few  moments  steadying  himself  against  the 
newel-post  of  the  stairs,  "  we  are  all  born  free  and  equal, 
ain't  we  ?  It's  in  the  constitution  of  the  United  States,  ain't 
it  ?  Well,  old  Jeff  was  right  politically — but,  socially  ?  Ah, 
there's  the  rub.  We  are  all  mere  bubbles  of  vitality  on  the 
great  ocean  of  force  that  lies  all  around  us.  That's  a  first- 
rate  phrase,  ain't  it  ?  But,  socially,  some  of  us  are  a  devilish 
sight  bigger  bubbles  than  others,  eh  ?  And  now  go  to  bed 
and  dream  of  the  silver  sea,  and  let  the  sound  of  its  surges  be 
the  requiem  of  any  vagarious  stuff  in  your  noddle.  Bah  !  I'm 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


217 


getting  poetical.  It's  all  \hatSerichon;  Liqueur  digestive!  I 
thought  I'd  try  one.  petit  verre  as  a  finale,  but  it's  so  confounded 
strong,  I'll  no  more  of  it.  But,  Luther,  hold  on  one  min 
ute  ;  what  I  want  to  get  at  is  this :  that  you  need  never  expect 
to  be  invited  to  that  house  again." 

"  Why  not  ? "  demanded  Luther. 

"  Because — because  you're  '  too  good-looking,  and  you  can't 
come  in  ; '  you're  too — too — comme  ilfaut,  as  we  say  in  Paris. 
Yes,  yes,"  continued  Mr.  Whoppers,  as  Luther  tore  himself 
away  and  mounted  the  stairs,  "  you  are  too  d — d  comme  ilfaut 
to  be  left  around  loose  in  our  set ;  we  can't  stand  it,  we  can't, 
I  could  see  it  in  my  lady's  eye.  Think  of  the  silver  sea,  my 
lad  ;  verbum  sat.  Good-night,  good-night,  my  dearest ;  I  hear 
the  watchman's  cry;  no  I  don't,  it's  just  that  Berichon  buzzing 
in  my  head." 

Luther  hurried  up  to  his  room,  and  lighting  his  lamp,  sat 
down  to  examine  his  prize.  He  however  hesitated  for  some 
moments  before  taking  the  lines  from  their  envelope.  They 
were  almost  too  precious  to  look  at — and — ah  !  there  was  the 
fear,  which  he  would  not  confess  to  himself,  that  they  might  not 
be  quite  worthy  of  their  maker  ;  not  quite  up  to  his  own  stand 
ard.  Of  course,  as  Helen  had  said,  they  couldn't  amount 
to  much  as  poetry,  and  the  sonnet  is  so  very  difficult,  but  what 
if  it  should  be  fiat  and  silly  ?  Impossible  !  It  might  be  weak 
and  feeble,  and  commonplace  and  badly  constructed :  that  was 
but  a  reasonable  expectation  of  any  young  girl's  first  attempt 
in  a  form  of  verse  that  had  tasked  the  powers  of  the  greatest 
poets  ;  but  downright  silly  the  lines  could  not  be.  But,  what 
if  they  were  ?  would  they  be  any  the  less  precious  ? 

Luther  opened  the  envelope.  "  Why,  what  is  this  ?  A 
sonnet  ?  No !  a  long  poem  that  far  transcends  the  conven 
tional  number  of  lines.  She  must  have  made  a  mistake." 
These  verses  could  not  have  been  intended  for  his  sight.  It 
would  be  very  improper — very  indelicate  to  read  them  with 
out  permission  ! — but — but — human  nature  is  very  weak,  and 
we  will  peep  over  Luther's  shoulder  as  his  eye  runs  down  the 
page: 

TO 


NEVER  AGAIN. 

When  with  dainty  hand  the  master 

Deftly  strikes  the  sounding  strings. 
And  the  witching  flood  of  music 

O'er  the  heart  its  glamour  flings, — 
List'ning  closely,  low  harmonics 

Undertone  the  music's  roll, 
Faintly  speaking  to  the  senses, 

Whispering  louder  to  the  soul. 

So  when  glows  the  land  at  noon-tide, 

And  the  God  showers  down  his  gold, 
Or  when  Eve -distils  her  amber, 

And  Night's  spangled  gates  unfold, 
Or  when  wreaths  of  protean  cloudage 

Whirl  the  face  of  Heaven  along ; 
Or  the  leaflet  struck  by  Zephyr 

Sighing  sings  its  saddening  song  ; 

Or,  enthralled  in  dread  and  wonder, 

Wandering  by  the  wave-lashed  shore, 
Mine  eyes  all  filled  with  wild  commotion 

And  mine  ears  with  ravening  roar, — 
Then,  as  always  'neath  Earth's  chantings, 

Low  harmonic  tones  I  hear, — 
Tones  mysterious — from  the  Far-off, 

But  that  ever  seem  so  near. 

And  as  'neath  the  chants  of  Nature, 

So  beneath  the  smiles  of  Art, 
Speak  the  same  low  countertonings 

To  my  sad  and  questioning  heart. 
Speak,  'twould  seem,  of  deeper  meanings 

Than  the  sounds  that  round  me  fall, 
Speak  of  states  of  finer  being 

Whence  in  seeming  comes  the  call. 

Expound  me,  then,  these  mystic  voicings, 

Tell  me  what  they  fain  would  say ; 
I  am  young,  the  world  I  know  not, 

Tell  me,  tell  me,  then,  I  pray. 
Say,  has  Life  here  nothing  finer 

Than  what  now  I  feel  and  see  ? 
Hush  !  my  rebel  heart — be  quiet ! 

Surely  that  can  never  be. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  219 

Surely  Life  has  something  finer 

Than  the  sweetest  songs  of  Art, 
Than  the  chaunts  and  charms  of  Nature, 

For  my  sad  and  questioning  heart. 
Surely — but,  ah  me,  I  tremble 

Lest  that  finer  thing  should  be, 
What  all  around  me  call  delusion, 

Love's  transcendent  ecstasy. 

It  was  with  something  approaching  a  transcendent  ecstasy 
that  Luther  jumped  into  bed,  just  as  Dawn  was  about  to  swing 
Night's  spangled  gates  into  place.  It  is  needless  to  say  that 
if  he  entertained  any  hopes  of  an  hour  or  two's  sleep  he  was 
disappointed.  He  little  thought,  however,  that  Helen  was 
equally  wakeful  :  and  those  miserable  lines  the  cause,  in  her 
case  too,  as  well !  The  poor  innocent  sonnet  lying  quietly  in 
its  place  on  her  writing-table  had  been  pettishly  torn  in  pieces 
and  flung  on  the  floor.  It  was  really  too  provoking  !  and  the 
more  so  as  the  young  man  must  now  be  treated  with  a  little 
more  coolness  and  reserve,  if  there  should  ever  be  a  meeting 
again,  unless — unless — well  unless  she  could  get  Mr.  Whop 
pers  to  explain  how  it  happened. 

Luther's  thoughts  ran  upon  his  legend  of  Charlemagne, 
which  he  was  to  give  in  exchange.  It  seemed  all  too  poor : 
but — a  happy  thought ! — he  would  illustrate  it.  He  had,  as 
we  have  said,  quite  a  talent  for  drawing,  and  he  would  endeav 
or  to  make  up  with  his  pencil  for  the  feebleness  of  his  pen. 
That  would  give  it  some  point,  or  at  least  add  emphasis  to  the 
real  point.  There  might  not  be  much  poetry  in  his  poem,  or 
cleverness  in  his  rendering  of  the  old  story,  but  there  was  a 
good  plain  moral,  and  very  applicable — that  is,  supposing 
Charlemagne  to  be  a  great  New  York  commission  merchant 
and  Engenhard  a  young  man  in  a  store  down  town. 

That  was  a  good  idea,  and  during  the  day  more  than  one 
sheet  of  note-paper  on  his  desk  at  Burling  Slip  suffered  in  con 
sequence,  but  as  the  evening  came  on  he  recovered  himself 
sufficiently  to  think  of  his  engagement  with  Madame  Steignitz, 
and  to  resolve  that  no  balls  or  parties  should  ever  again  inter 
fere  with  his  studies.  At  the  appointed  hour  he  set  out  for 


220  XEVER    AC  A IX. 

Wooster  Street,  and  mounted  the  rickety  stairs  leading  to  her 
apartment. 

"  And  so  you  broke  your  engagement  with  me  to  go  to  a 
party,"  exclaimed  Madame  Steignitz,  as  Luther  was  making 
his  excuses.  "  Well,  well,  I  will  not  reproach  you  ;  you  are 
young:  'tis  the  way  of  the  young.  Why  should  you  mind  to 
visit  a  poor  old  woman  when  les  beaux  yeux,  &s  mains  douces, 
les  lumieres,  la  musigue,  the  soft  frou-frou  of  muslin  and  silk 
et  tout  le  parfum  de  la  jeunesse  dor'ee  invite  you  ?  ah,  I  know. 
Once  I,  too,  thought  the  dance  to  be  Heaven." 

"  Indeed,  you  mistake,"  exclaimed  Luther,  "  and  I  don't 
think  it  will  happen  again.  I  had  a  particular  reason  for 
going  this  time — one  which  rendered  it  impossible  for  me  to 
refuse." 

"  Oh,  oh,  I  comprehend  !  J7  y  avait  quelqii'une  avec 
laqudle  vous  ttes  aux  petits  soins — who  is  she  ?  " 

"  No  no,"  exclaimed  Luther.  "  J  had  to  go  because  the 
invitation  was  from  my  employer,"  and  Luther  had  the  grace 
to  blush  at  the  fib. 

"  And  who  is  he  ? "  she  demanded. 

"  Mr.  Ledgeral." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Ledgeral,  the  rich  merchant  of  Burling  Slip. 
Why  did  you  not  tell  me  his  name  before  ? " 

"  Tell  you  !     Why  should  I  ?  do  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  Dame !  I  don't  know  ;  perhaps  I  do,"  and  Madame 
Steignitz  mused  for  a  moment  in  silence.  "  And  now  com- 
menrons,  we  shall  begin.  We  must  not  lose  any  time.  You 
think  you  can  come  to  me  only  three  times  a  week?  Well, 
you  will  give  me  three  hours  each  evening,  and  you  will  see 
what  I  shall  do  for  you.  You  know  what  is  the  greatest  thing 
for  to  learn  a  new  language  ?  No  ?  Well,  I  shall  tell  you. 
Study  !  Study  !  Study  !  I  speak  five  languages  perfectly; 
how  do  I  arrive  to  that  ?  By  looking  at  a  book  one  hour  a 
day  ?  No,  by  study,  pen  in  hand,  four,  five,  six,  eight  hours 
some  days.  Some  years  ago  I  have  teach  the  French,  in  this 
country.  My  pupils  study  one  hour,  two  hour  some  days, 
and  some  days  nothing  at  all.  And  then  they  say,  Oh,  mon 


221 

Dteu  !  quel  talent  incroyable  have  those  Germans,  and  Rus 
sians,  and  Poles  for  the  languages  !  Bah  !  it  is  not  so  !  It 
is  not  the  difference  in  the  brains,  or  in  the  organ,  or  in  the 
method  :  it  is  in  the  work.  The  Russians,  and  Poles,  and 
Germans,  in  the  matter  of  languages,  have  a  grand  talent  for 
work.  I  gave  some  French  lessons  in  Germany  once,  and 
one  pupil,  la  veuve  (Tun  nouveau  riche,  would  to  learn  French 
quickly.  So  she  read,  she  write,  she  speak  fourteen  hours 
every  day  for  a  year.  She  went  into  the  French,  grosst  comme 
fa,  et  rouge  comme  un  bifteak  ;  et  lourde — le  double  de  mat,  and 
she  came  out  of  it  mince  comme  ya,  et  blanche  comme  une  assiette 
de  soupe  d  la  reine,  but  she  knew  more  French  than  the  whole 
academy.  So  we  will  study  ;  commen^ons,  let  us  see  what  you 
know.  Read  this  page  of  Balzac.  I  will  see  how  you  pro 
nounce  :  then  you  shall  write  some  phrase  which  I  will  dic 
tate,  and  I  will  see  how  much  grammar  you  know.  Don't 
mind  me,  j'e  vais  faire  ma  petite  cuisine,  Je  n'ai  pas  encore 
soupe, ;  allez  done, — ne  me  regardez  pas,  vous  ne  me  derangez 
pas." 

Luther  commenced  reading.  Madame  Steignitz  occupied 
herself  with  preparations  for  her  exceedingly  frugal  meal.  A 
casserole,  with  its  stock  of  meagre  soup,  was  pulled  out  from 
the  recesses  of  an  old,  and  neatly  carved,  but  dilapidated 
buffet,  that  m'ght,  perhaps,  in  former  times  have  contained  the 
delicate  Stvres  of  a  Ninon's  petites  soup'es,  or  upheld  the  plate 
and  crystal  at  the  orgies  of  the  Regent.  Madame  uncovered 
the  casserole,  and  took  a  sniff  at  the  contents. 

"  Open  your  mouth  wider  and  sound  your  r-rs,  and  recol 
lect  one  thing  ;  you  can't  swallow  your  letters  in  French  as 
you  do  in  English." 

Another  sniff  at  the  casserole,  and  then  as  if  satisfied 
that  the  contents  still  remained  in  an  edible  condition,  the 
vessel  was  placed  to  heat  upon  the  top  of  the  little  anthracite 
stove. 

" Bon  !  Bon ! "  she  exclaimed,  "I  see  you  have  practice 
with  your  u  and  your  double  1,  but  your  r — ah,  you  must 
r-r-r-oll  it  more.  Like  this  :  sacr-r-r-r-r"  and  the  old  woman's 


222  NEVER  AGAIN. 

head  disappeared  in  the  recesses  of  the  buffet ;  whence  the 
r-rs  continued  to  roll  out,  accompanied  by  divers  profanities 
and  a  great  clattering  and  clinking  and  rustling  of  bottles 
and  plates  and  old  boxes  and  baskets. 

"  Sacr-r-r-e  tonnere!  jpai perdu  mon  ognon  ;  sacr-r-r  nom  de 
Dieu!  mon  seul  ognon.  Out,  out,  mon  seul  ognon.  O^  est  in 
otiestil?  oti,  peut-il  se  trouver  1  Ah!  ah!  le  void !  sacr-r-r-r 
cochon  d' ognon,  le  void." 

Luther  paused,  and  for  a  moment  almost  imagined  that 
the  old  buffet  was  about  to  give  birth  to  a  French  trooper. 
The  old  woman  emerged  with  triumphant  vivacity,  holding 
another  stewpan  in  one  hand,  and  in  the  other  a  cold  boiled 
potato;  a  coffee-cup  filled  with  fish  livers  and  hearts;  and 
the  truant  onion. 

She  proceeded  to  slice  the  potato  into  the  casserole ;  then 
the  half  of  the  onion ;  adding  a  pinch  of  salt  and  pepper,  a 
few  crumbs  of  bread  and  a  lump  of  fat,  and  was  just  going  to 
turn  in  the  contents  of  the  coffee-cup,  when  she  paused,  ad 
vanced  to  Luther,  held  the  cup  under  his  nose,  and  asked 
him  in  French  what  he  called  it. 

Luther  shook  his  head. 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know  ?  Well,  I  will  tell  you ;  it  is  a  sample 
and  a  proof  of  the  prodigality  and  barbarity  of  your  country. 
That  is  one  of  the  dearest  dishes  in  the  French  market.  In 
Paris  I  give  two  francs  a  pound,  and  make  a  dish  for  the 
gourmet  le  plus  instruit  of  Phillips,  or  the  Cafe,  Anglais,  and 
here,  sometimes  I  give  three  cents  a  pound,  and  sometimes  I 
get  them  for  nothing.  Mais  lisez  encore;  ne  me  regardez  pas. 
ye  vats  faire  un  plat  d'entrailles  de  poisson  saute,  d  la  grande 
Cartme" 

Luther  resumed  his  reading,  while  the  old  lady  stirred  the 
contents  of  her  stewpans,  and  prepared  one  corner  of  the 
rickety  old  table.  A  soup-plate  of  'French  porcelain,  with 
broken  edges,  a  battered  silver  spoon,  and  a  napkin  of  fine 
material  but  frayed  and  full  of  holes,  and  looking  somewhat 
the  worse  in  color  from  frequent  general  service  as  duster  and 
dishcloth,  were  soon  arranged,  and  a  portion  of  the  contents 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


223 


of  the  first  stew  having  been  emptied  into  the  soup-plate,  the 
old  lady  commenced  her  meal. 

"  That  will  do  for  the  reading,"  she  exclaimed,  after  a  few 
mouthfuls  of  soup,  "  I  see  that,  with  a  little  practice,  you  will 
pronounce  very  well ;  you  have  a  good  organ.  Now,  will  you 
take  your  pencil  and  paper,  and  I  shall  see  what  you  can  write." 

"  Mais  pardon  un  moment"  she  exclaimed,  as  Luther  got 
his  pencil  and  paper  in  readiness  j — "  ilfaut  faire  sauter  mes  en- 
trailles  de  poisson"  and  jumping  up  she  rushed  to  the  stove, 
gave  the  stewpan  a  shake,  whisked  back  again  to  the  table,  and 
swallowed  a  few  mouthfuls  of  soup.  "  Maintenant  commenfons, 
— write  as  I  dictate.  Ecrivez  done — I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot 
ask  you  to  eat  something." 

" Manger  quclque  chose"  said  Luther,  finishing  the  phrase. 

"  I  cannot  do  so  for  several  reasons." 

"  Plusieures  raisons"  echoed  Luther. 

"  First,  because  I  have  not  got  any  too  much  for  myself." 

"  Pour  mot,"  murmured  Luther. 

"  Second,  because  what  I,  a  poor  woman,  have  to  eat  is 
not  good  enough  for  a  young  gentleman." 

"  Gentilhomme"  said  Luther. 

"Third,  because  I  know  that  you  have  already  eaten  your 
supper,  and  that  you  are  not  hungry." 

"  N'avezpasfaim" 

The  stewpan  on  the  stove  began  to  emit  by  this  time  cer 
tain  fragrant  evidences  of  readiness  for  the  table.  Madame 
Steignitz,  first  dexterously  giving  it  a  few  shakes,  whipped  it 
off  the  stove,  and  poured  its  contents  into  the  same  plate  that 
had  served  for  the  soup,  all  the  time  continuing  her  dictation. 

"  Good  !  "  she  exclaimed,  as  she  swallowed  the  last  mouth 
ful  and  wiped  the  plate  with  a  crust  of  bread.  "  Good  !  now 
let  me  see  what  you  have  written.  Very  good,  indeed !  I 
see  you  have  made  some  progress.  The  worst  part  for  you  is 
over.  You  have  not  made  more  than  a  dozen  errors.  Wait 
till  I  put  away  these  things,  and  then  we  will  find  them  and 
correct  them.  Et  apres  nous  causerons  un  peu — what  you 
call  chat  a  little." 


224  NEPER  AGAIN. 

The  remainder  of  the  evening  was  filled  up  with  talk  uj:on 
various  subjects ;  with  a  scene  from  Moliere,  read  by  Madame 
with  spirit  and  vivacity;  and  with  an  extemporized  represen 
tation  of  assumed  characters  in  various  situations. 

"Now,  you  shall  imagine  yourself  to  be  a  young  lady,  and 
I  will  be  a  gentleman  come  to  visit  you."  And  the  old  lady 
rushed  to  the  door  and  pretended  to  enter  the  room,  sliding, 
and  bowing,  and  making  her  compliments  with  affected  em- 
pressement. 

Luther  could  hardly  refrain  from  a  hearty  laugh,  but 
forcing  himself  into  the  spirit  of  the  scene,  he  endeavored  to 
reply  with  all  the  vigor  and  vivacity  possible. 

Madame  Steignitz  neither  helped  him  nor  corrected  him 
directly,  but  whenever  he  made  a  mistake,  or  was  in  want  of  a 
word  or  a  phrase,  she  said  something  that  involved  the  phrase, 
or  furnished  the  expression,  and  that  with  an  emphasis  that 
drove  in  and  clinched  the  right  word  or  the  right  idiom,  in  a 
way  that  dawdling  over  a  grammar  or  phrase-book  could 
never  do. 

"  Now  you  shall  be  the  gentleman,  and  I  will  be  the  lady. 
You  shall  say  to  me  all  that  I  have  said  to  you."  And  again 
the  scene  was  repeated. 

"  Now  I  shall  keep  a  book-store,  and  you  have  come  to 
buy  some  books."  And  the  probable  conversation  of  buyer 
and  seller  was  gone  through  with. 

There  was  a  little  old  French  clock,  surmounted  by  a 
pair  of  tarnished  gilt  Cupids  on  the  stained  wooden  mantle- 
piece,  half  hidden  by  piles  of  papers,  pamphlets,  bottles,  pill 
boxes,  brushes,  and  odds  and  ends  of  all  kinds  of  rubbish. 
Its  tiny  voice  announced  to  Luther's  astonished  ear  the  hour 
of  ten.  He  could  hardly  believe  it  was  so  late,  so  much  had 
he  been  interested  in  the  exercises  of  the  evening. 

As  he  bade  Madame  Steignitz  adieu,  with  many  thanks 
and  the  strongest  protestations  of  his  determination  to  renew 
his  visits  upon  the  appointed  days,  and  closed  the  door  be 
hind  him,  he  felt  a  wonderful  elation  at  the  opening  prospect 
of  a  complete  mastership  of  a  second  tongue.  He  was  cer- 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


22$ 


tain  now  of  French.  German,  which  he  was  to  begin  in  a 
month's  time,  he  would  do  his  best  at,  and  might  even  ulti 
mately  attempt  the  Italian  and  Spanish,  but  French  at  the 
worst  was  within  his  grasp  ;  a  short  and  vigorous  attack  must 
result  in  a  perfect  and  permanent  conquest. 

As  Luther  closed  the  door,  and  stepped  out  on  the  landing, 
he  noticed  a  light  issuing  from  the  room  of  Mr.  Planly.  The 
door  was  a  little  ajar,  and  he  felt  an  impulse  to  push  it  open, 
and  exchange  passing  salutations  with  the  old  inventor,  when 
he  was  interrupted  by  u  sound  of  voices  from  within. 

"  How  much  money  will  it  take  to  complete  it?  "  demanded 
a  harsh  voice,  in  suppressed  tone,  with  a  strong  foreign  accent. 
"  I  am  poor — desperately  poor,  but  once  finished  and  in  my 
hands,  if  it  will  do  what  you  think,  and  I  hope,  I  can  get 
plenty  of  money  for  it.  How  much  money  will  it  take  to  com 
plete  it  ? " 

"  I  cannot  say,"  responded  Mr.  Planly,  "  not  much  ;  but 
I  must  have  tools  and  materials,  and  you  will  recollect  that  it 
is  an  affair  of  time  as  well  as  money.  I  must  experiment — 
try  different  plans, — make  and  remake  the  thing  so  as  to  have 
it  portable  as  well  as  efficient ;  and,  in  the  meantime,  I  must 
live  :  I  can't  go  every  day  as  I  have  to-day  without  eating. 
My  landlady  is  impatient  for  her  rent ;  some  money  I  must 
have,  and  I  cannot  beg,  borrow,  or  steal." 

"And  this  landlady  of  yours,  has  she  any  money  ?" 

"  They  say  that  she  is  very  rich  :  she  must  be,  I  should 
think,  quite  wealthy  ;  she  spends  nothing  and  owns  several 
houses." 

"  And  where  does  she  keep  her  money  ?  Does  she  have 
any  here — in  her  garret — do  you  suppose  ?  " 

If  Luther  had  been  in  the  room  he  would  have  seen  Mr. 
Planly  suddenly  start  and  fasten  a  keen  and  suspicious  look 
upon  his  companion. 

"  Ah,  I  know  your  thoughts  :  you  think  that  I  wish  to  rob 
her,"  resumed  the  strange  voice,  "but  if  I  did  there  would  be 
no  great  harm  in  it.  The  money  would  do  more  good  in  my 
hands  than  in  the  pockets  of  a  miserable  old  avare  like  that." 


226  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"There  is  no  necessity  to  discuss  that  point,"  rejoined  Mr. 
Planly.  "The  attempt  would  be  a  folly  at  least,  as  she  never 
trusts  herself  with  a  penny,  and  every  day  she  deposits  before 
night  in  the  savings  bank  the  money  that  she  collects." 

"In  that  case  she  is  doubly  safe  from  me,"  replied  the 
stranger  with  a  laugh.  "  Desperate  poverty  has  never  yet 
made  me  commit  a  crime.  I  am  sure  it  will  never  cause  me 
to  knowingly  make  such  a  fool  of  myself.  In  my  country  an 
old  witch  like  that  would  be  pretty  sure  to  have  a  good  magot 
somewhere,  and  I  know  some  of  my  compatriots  who  would 
be  looking  after  it.  But  your  confounded  banks  of  deposit 
are  so  thick  that  they  spoil  that  game.  But  I  must  bid  you 
good-night,  I  have  an  appointment  with  my  friends  at  our 
usual  haunt  in  Wooster  Street  at  ten.  1  will  see  if  we  can't 
raise  a  few  dollars  for  you.  Au  revoir" 

The  last  word  reminded  Luther  that  he  was  listening  to  a 
conversation  not  intended  for  his  ear,  and  decided  his  hesita 
tion  about  entering.  He  concluded  to  defer  his  call  upon 
Mr.  Planly  until  another  evening,  and  turned  to  the  stairs, 
just  in  time  to  escape  observation,  as  the  door  was  flung  open 
and  gave  exit  to  a  small  bushy-wiskered  man  in  a  cloak  and 
slouched  hat. 

"  Mind  you  keep  it  well  out  of  sight,"  he  called  back  from 
the  head  of  the  stairs  to  the  inventor,  who  stood  in  the  door 
way.  "The  slightest  publicity  will  destroy  the  value  of  the 
whole  thing." 

"  Oh,  never  fear,"  replied  Mr.  Planly ;  "  I  have  very  few 
visitors,  and  I  don't  know  a  soul  in  town  who  would  willingly 
take  the  slightest  interest  in  that  or  anything  else  that  I  am 
concerned  in,  or  who  would  pay  attention  enough  to  anything 
I  could  say  to  enable  them  to  comprehend  either  its  princi 
ples  or  its  objects." 

"  Dame  !  Je  if  en  suis  pas  si  sur"  muttered  the  man  in  the 
cloak,  but  with  an  accent  which,  contrasting  with  the  pure 
intonation  of  Madame  Steignitz  still  ringing  in  his  ears,  left 
Luther  very  much  in  doubt  as  to  whether  the  speaker  was  a 
Frenchman  or  not. 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


227 


"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that.  There  are  a  great  many  cu 
rious  people  about ;  so  be  on  your  guard." 

The  speaker  rapidly  descended  the  stairs. 

Luther's  curiosity  was  aroused.  He  was  half  inclined  to 
stop  and  examine  the  stranger  a  little  more  closely,  but  he 
did  not  like  to  be  caught  watching  or  waiting  ;  and  he  did  not 
like  to  admit  to  himself  a  capability  of  trying  to  pry  into  the 
business  of  other  people  with  which  he  had  nothing  to  do. 
He  opened  the  front  door  without  looking  directly  back, 
closely  followed  by  the  stranger,  and  tripping  down  the  steps, 
turned  up  the  street. 

In  front  of  the  steps,  leaning  against  the  railing,  was  a 
large,  powerfully-built  man  ;  roughly  clad,  as  Luther,  aided  by 
the  feeble  glimmer  of  a  miserable  gas-light  at  a  little  distance, 
could  see  at  a  glance. 

A  small  astrachan  cap,  set  upon  a  monstrous  mass  of  curly 
jet-black  hair  surmounted  his  head.  Around  his  neck  was  a 
red  bandanna,  knotted  sailor-fashion,  with  the  ends  falling 
down  upon  an  old  cardigan  jacket  that  was  buttoned  up  to  the 
chin.  A  heavy  black  moustache  and  beard,  that  covered 
nearly  one-half  of  a  hideously  repulsive  face,  deeply  scarred 
with  the  small-pox,  together  with  rather  large  gold  rings  in  his 
ears,  constituted  all  the  details  that  Luther's  rapid  glance  could 
take  in ;  and  these  he  could  hardly  be  said  to  see  at  the  instant. 
They  became  developed  in  his  consciousness  only  by  a  mental 
analysis  that  lasted  until  he  had  almost  reached  his  home  in 
Bleecker  Street.  As  a  part  too  of  this  development  into  cog 
nizable  mental  pictures  of  instantaneous  and  simultaneous  sen 
suous  impressions,  he  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  the  two 
men  were  friends ;  that  they  had  nodded  to  each  other  ;  had 
dropped  a  word  of  salutation,  which  was  neither  French  nor 
English  ;  and  had  gone  off  together  down  Wooster  Street  in 
the  direction  of  Canal  Street. 

Perhaps  his  impression  was  somewhat  intensified  by  their 
sudden  disappearance  as  he  stood  looking  after  them  ;  one 
moment  they  were  plain  in  sight,  the  next  they  had  vanished. 
— "  Dropped  into  some  under-ground  drinking-saloon,"  said 


228  -  V/-.'  VER  A  GAIN. 

Luther,  but  his  curiosity  had  never  been  so  thoroughly  piqued 
before ;  and  yet,  as  he  said  to  himself,  he  could  not  imagine 
why  or  wherefore.  There  was  nothing  very  striking  or  won 
derful  in  the  fact  that  the  inventor  had  a  visitor  with  a  foreign 
accent,  or  that  the  said  foreigner  had  a  companion  who  was 
waiting  for  him  outside  of  the  house  ;  still  he  could  not  help 
wondering  about  it  as  he  made  his  way  up-stairs  to  his  little 
attic,  and  he  could  not  help  wondering  at  himself  for  wonder 
ing  at  so  trivial  an  incident.  "  I  dare  say,"  mused  Luther, 
"if  I  should  stroll  the  streets  to-night  until  the  short  hours,  I 
should  see  and  hear  a  dozen  things  much  more  curious,  and 
much  more  suggestive  of  mystery.  There's  the  old  woman — 
she  is  a  complete  mystery — and  how  impenetrable !  How 
thoroughly  dry  she  has  pumped  me,  and  how  little  she  has 
revealed  in  return !  But  then,  I  suppose,  that  is  natural.  I 
have  nothing  to  conceal ;  she  evidently  has  had  her  adventures 
and  her  trials.  She  must  have  had  a  son,  I  take  it,  and  she 
fancies  that  I  resemble  him.  I  suppose  she  will  tell  me  all 
about  it  some  time." 

Luther  went  off  to  sleep,  and  had  a  troubled  dream  of 
Asmodeus  and  unroofed  houses  ;  of  mysterious  sights  and 
sounds  ;  of  interesting  scenes  of  intrigue  and  conjugal  infe 
licity  ;  and  debauchery  and  murder ;  and  splendid  tableaux- 
vivants  of  love,  and  hate,  and  greed. 

"  Beautiful,  isn't  it?"  exclaimed  the  limping  devil  in  Lu 
ther's  ear,  as  he  tore  off  roof  after  roof;  "  but  here  is  a  couple 
of  pictures  not  quite  so  striking,  but  really  the  finest  of  all." 
And  the  devil  ripped  up  a  roof,  and  exposed  to  Luther's  sight 
a  luxurious  chamber  with  a  single  occupant— a  maiden,  beau 
tiful  and  youthful,  but  with  a  distressed  and  despairing  expres 
sion  that  foreshadowed,  for  the  instant,  the  permanent  lines 
and  shadows  of  thirty.  With  her  hair  half  in  crimping-pins, 
and  half  straggling  loose  ;  and  her  cheek  hollow  and  wan, 
anc} — now  that  the  slight  tint  of  the  red  ribbon,  with  which  it 
had  been  artistically  touched,  had  been  washed  off — almost  as 
white  as  the  folds  of  her  robe  dc  nui/,  she  sat  at  her  dressing- 
table  motionless ;  holding  her  head  on  one  hand,  and  gazing 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


229 


at  a  riviere  of  diamonds  that  flashed  its  seductive  light  from 
the  perfumed  satin  folds  of  its  richly  gilt  and  embossed  case. 

She  started,  closed  the  lid,  and  with  a  slight  shudder 
pushed  the  box  from  her.  Her  hand  fell  upon  a  small  gilt- 
edged  prayer-book  ;  it  opened  at  the  marriage  service  ;  she 
hastily  closed  it  with  a  still  stronger  shudder,  and  flung  it, 
with  a  gesture  of  fierce  impatience,  on  to  a  distant  sofa.  Tears 
sprang  to  her  eyes,  and  rolled  down  her  cheeks  ;  she  clasped 
her  hands  with  a  convulsive  grasp,  and  bowed  her  head  upon 
them.  Deep  sobs  shook  her  whole  frame  ;  a  wail  of  agony 
burst  from  her  laboring  heart.  "  Too  late,  too  late,"  she  cried. 
"  Oh,  Harry,  Harry,  my  love  !  my  life  !  why  did  you  let  me 
give  you  up  ?  why  did  I  do  it,  why  did  I  do  it  ?  Why  did  that 
horrible  fellow  with  his  million  cross  my  path  ?  Alas  !  how 
full  of  misery  looms  my  future.  Oh  that  I  could  die  !  yes,  die 
to-night  ;  now — at  once,  and  escape  forever." 

She  raised  her  head,  wiped  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  and 
commenced  coiling  her  back  twist,  and  finishing  her  front 
hair  with  crimping-pins. 

"  Now  that  is  the  kind  of  thing  I  like  to  see,"  said  Asmo- 
cleus.  "  There  is  a  young  girl — one  of  the  most  fashionable 
and  best  educated  of  any  within  two  blocks  of  the  Avenue — but 
her  family  by  some  miserable  dispensation  of  fortune  is  not 
rich.  Her  mother  has  only  a  pittance — some  seven  or  eight 
thousand  a  year  ;  and  her  father  doesn't  get  a  cent  over  twelve 
thousand  as  president  of  an  insurance  company.  She  must 
have  money,  and  her  charms  have  been  in  the  market  for  two 
years  past.  In  that  time  she  has  fallen  desperately  in  love 
with  a  nice  young  fellow  of  a  doctor,  who  is  rapidly  getting 
into  good  practice,  but  who  has  no  income  that  would  permit 
for  many  years  anything  like  a  life  of  fashion-.  Why  a  single 
ball  at  Delmonico's,  when  you  pay  a  thousand  dollars  for  rose 
buds,  to  say  nothing  of  the  other  flowers,  would  swallow  up 
the  fees  of  fifty  amputations,  or  accouchements  ;  or  exhaust 
the  pecuniary  supplies  derivable  from  twenty  malingering 
maternal  nervous  systems,  or  a  dozen  infantile  fits,  rickets, 
and  club-feet,  or  a  score  or  two  of  paternal  gouty  stomachs 


230  NEVER  AGAIN. 

and  congested  livers.  No,  she  couldn't  marry  the  doctor,  and 
settle  down  to  a  life  of  love  and  domestic  bliss,  or  mingled 
duty  and  rational  pleasure, — to  the  hum-drum  enjoyments  of 
a  stupid  family  circle,  and  a  restricted  social  set.  Think  of 
what  she  would  have  to  endure  :  the  barest  glance  of  recog 
nition  from  Mrs.  Newcome,  the  banker's  wife  ;  the  cut-direct 
of  Mrs.  Wriggleton  and  her  daughters,  or  the  cold  hard  stare 
of  Mrs.  D'Oberge.  No,  she  couldn't  marry  the  doctor ;  Pa 
and  Ma  both  said  so,  and  society  said  so, — so  she  is  going  to 
marry  an  ugly,  illiterate,  unrefined,  flashy,  flippant  boor  of 
twice  her  age,  who,  because  he  has  converted  an  inherited 
fifty  thousand,  picked  up  by  his  progenitor  in  a  feed-store, 
into  two  millions  by  questionable  speculation,  imagines  him 
self  to  be  the  equal  of  the  finest-cultured  and  most  tender 
and  delicate-mannered  gentlemen  in  the  land.  Does  she  ever 
think  of  bearing  children  to  such  a  father,  and  rearing  them 
under  his  parental  guidance  and  example?  You  need  not 
ask.  Look  at  that  shudder  that  runs  through  every  nerve  in 
her  body. 

"  But  enough  of  this.  Here  we  have  a  funny  picture.  Let 
us  look  at  it  for  an  instant.  Do  you  see  that  old  woman  ? — 
that  is  old  Mother  Jinks.  She  is  going  to  a  ball.  She  always 
is  going  to  a  ball,  or  party,  or  reception,  or  somewhere,  where 
she  can  show  off  her  laces  and  diamonds,  her  false  teeth  and 
painted  cheeks,  and  scraggy  bust.  She  has  no  daughter  to 
bring  out,  but  she  contrives  to  hang  herself  on  to  some  young 
damsel,  for  the  time  being,  by  the  pure  power  of  suction. 
Like  a  vampire  she  fastens  upon  her  victim  ;  lulls  her  to 
sleep  with  fannings  and  flutterings  of  compliments  and  little 
attentions,  sucks  out  all  her  youthful  social  juices,  and  throws 
her,  a  withered  and  helpless  old  maid,  away.  Look  at  her 
now :  she  is  almost  made  up,  and  she  will  be  soon  simpering 
and  bowing,  and  grimacing,  and  boring  herself  and  others, 
and  making  herself  an  object  of  ridicule  and  contempt  to  the 
young  people  around  her,  and  denouncing  the  party  and  so 
ciety  generally,  and  sneering  at  '  common  people,'  and  won 
dering  why  she  cannot  enjoy  herself,  forgetting  that  no  one 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


231 


can  find  anything  in  society  when  they  take  nothing  into  it 
themselves.  Then  she  will  come  home,  quarrel  with  her 
maid,  and  go  to  bed,  and  get  up  again  to  go  through  the  same 
routine  the  next  day.  I  declare  it  makes  me  laugh,"  and 
the  devil  gave  a  loud  ha  !  ha  !  that  startled  Luther  from  his 
sleep.  He  was  glad  to  find  it  daylight  and  time  to  rise  if  he 
wished  to  give  a  few  finishing  touches  to  the  illustrations  of 
his  "  Legend  "  before  the  summons  to  hash  and  buckwheat 
cakes. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Mr.  Editor,"  said  Luther  to  Mr.  Whop 
pers,  at  the  breakfast-table,  "  if  I  could  write  it  all  out  it 
would  make  a  first-rate  article  for  the  Atlantic  or  the  Galaxy  ; 
it  would  be  altogether  above  the  line  of  your  readers." 

"  No  doubt,  too  lofty  entirely — but  that  is  natural  :  a  fel 
low  that  has  been  straddling  ridge-poles  and  climbing  round 
chimney-pots  all  night,  might  be  expected  to  be  a  little  ele 
vated.  Are  you  sure  the  elevation  did  not  take  place  before 
you  went  to  bed?  You  thought  that  it  was  a  spirit  that  was 
leading  you  around.  Well,  perhaps  it  was,  and  infernally  bad 
spirit  too.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  it  about.  It  is  powerful 
enough,  no  doubt.  I've  known  it  to  take  the  roof  right  off  of 
a  man's  head ;  and  as  to  elevation,  a  single  gin-sling  will 
sometimes  throw  a  fellow  as  high  as  Trinity  steeple.  One 
thing  I  can  tell  you,  and  that  is,  your  diable  boiteux  is  a  little 
*oo  much  like  a  police  reporter  ;  or  the  city  correspondent  of 
a  country  newspaper  ;  or  a  third-class  novelist.  He  gives 
you  exceptional  views,  and  makes  you  think  that  what  he  sees 
and  says  stands  for  the  world  and  society.  There  are  thou 
sands  of  houses  in  New  York  upper-tendom  whose  roofs  he 
wouldn't  dare  to  disturb :  the  amount  of  sensation  to  be  ex 
tracted  from  them  wouldn't  pay  for  the  trouble  of  ripping  up 
a  single  tile." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Inflation  and  Panic — A  Tight  Money-Market — The  Great  House  in 
Trouble — Mr.  Ledgeral  Raises  The  Money — A  Nice  Distinction — 
Count  Isenthal's  Letter — Joseph's  Recollections. — The  Great  House 
Saved. 

THERE  had  been  one  of  those  periods,  lasting  two  or 
three  years,  of  great  financial  inflation  and  consequent 
commercial  activity.  Money  was  plenty,  and  every  kind  of 
trade  acknowledged  the  impulse.  And  not  only  all  kinds  of 
legitimate  trade,  but  the  absurdest  schemes,  the  wildest  spec 
ulations,  the  most  brazen  swindles  floated,  bobbing  and  bub 
bling  about,  on  the  great  seething,  roaring  current  of  credit. 
In  the  "street,"  there  was  a  terrible  activity,  and  all  the 
avenues  to  sudden  wealth  were  filled  with  crowds  of  eager, 
excited  men  anxiously  making  haste  to  be  rich.  A  perfect 
fury  of  greed  had  seized  upon  all  classes,  professions  and 
trades ;  upon  all  ages  and  both  sexes.  The  'preacher's 
thoughts  wandered  at  the  sacred  desk  to  his  last  investment 
in  the  "Communipaw  Silver  Lead,"  or  the  "  Chickahomany 
Railroad  and  Labor  Improvement  Co."  The  great  surgeon 
hurried  the  sweep  of  his  amputating-knife  by  ten  seconds,  to 
attend  a  meeting  of  a  board  of  directors  squatting  upon  spec 
imens  of  a  new-found  vein  of  the  real  stuff  in  the  wilds  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains.  The  great  barrister  in  his  heaviest 
speeches  could  not  keep  from  mentally  counting  his  chances 
in  the  Big  Thing  Petroleum,  and  even,  in  one  of  his  highest 
flights,  apostrophizing  the  Fount  of  Justice  as  flowing  at  least 
four  hundred  barrels.  The  glowing  appeal  moves  the  court. 
The  presiding  judge  starts,  leans  forward,  and  whispers  :  "Is 
there  any  chance  for  the  court  to  get  in  on  first  principles  ? " 


NEVER  AGAIN.  233 

"  One  five-thousand-dollar  share  left — genuine,  first  sand 
stone,  no  watering,  no  cloubling-up.  Your  honor  will  step 
right  in  on  the  very  first  rung  of  the  derrick  ladder." 

"  Good !  The  court  notes  the  point,  and  will  reserve  its 
decision  until  the  afternoon.  Go  on  with  your  argument, 
sir." 

And  now  had  begun  the  inevitable  reaction.  Money  had 
become  tight,  or  if  not  tight,  could  not  be  found  lying  around  so 
loose  as  usual.  There  were  many  symptons  of  a  coming  hur 
ricane.  The  stock-barometers  fell  away  below  foul.  There 
was  a  leaden  dulness  settling  down  in  the  street,  and  the 
faces  of  bank  presidents  and  cashiers  grew  cloudy  :  there  was 
a  growing  disposition  to  "realize,"  to  "pocket  the  rocks,"  to 
"git  out,"  to  "take  in  sail,"  to  "clew  up  and  clew  down,"  and 
many  a  captain  of  a  gallant  craft  regretted  that  he  had  not 
carried  his  top-gallant  sails  over  reefed  top-sails,  so  that  he 
could  shorten  his  canvas  handily  in  the  squall. 

You  had  but  to  visit  the  Rialto  in  the  time  of  high-tide,  or 
in  other  words  to  drop  into  the  note  and  exchange  brokers'  of 
fices  in  Wall  Street,  to  find  that  no  firm  stood  higher  in  the  opin 
ion  of  money-lenders  than  the  old  respected  and  respectable 
establishment  of  Shippen,  Ledgeral  &  Co.  And  yet  it  was 
difficult  for  Mr.  Gainsby  to  raise  all  the  money  needed.  It 
would  never  do,  however,  for  such  a  solid  firm  to  acknowledge 
any  pressing  want.  It  would  never  do  for  such  a  respectable 
firm  to  go  shinning  about  for  temporary  loans.  It  would 
never  do  for  a  firm  composed  of  individuals  of  such  large  pri 
vate  wealth  to  attempt  discounts  from  outside  commercial 
Grad-grinds  on  questionable  collaterals,  or  allow  their  own 
notes  to  be  shaved  at  a  higher  rate  than  ten  per  cent.  The  very 
purity  and  elevation  of  the  firm's  character  worked  against  it 
now.  As  when  a  fast  girl,  with  a  reputation  for  modesty  and 
propriety,  un  peu  usee,  says  and  does  things  without  losing 
social  consideration  that  would  completely  destroy  the  char 
acter  of  an  immaculate,  but  slow  virgin  ;  or  as  when  a  mere 
member  of  the  congregation  reels  home  from  the  St.  Nicholas 
dinner,  and  hurts  nothing  or  nobody,  while  a  single  lurch  in 


234 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


a  communicant  will  shock  a  whole  church  ;  so  a  firm  like  Ship- 
pen,  Ledgeral  &  Co.  was  debarred  from  any  acknowledgment, 
by  outward  sign  or  symptom,  of  the  fury  of  the  blast.  No 
willow-like  bending,  no  shivering,  no  shaking.  In  the  daily 
"  Ho  !  what  news  from  the  Rialto  ?  "  its  name  must  not  be 
mentioned.  A  single  whisper  against  the  solidity  of  such  a 
settled  institution,  the  faintest  suggestion  of  frangibility  in 
such  a  towering  structure,  would  precipitate  everything  :ind 
everybody  "  down  town"  into  one  universal  and  never-ending 
smash. 

And  yet  the  firm  wanted  money,  and  didn't  know  how  or 
where  to  raise  it ;  or  rather  they  had  raised  so  much  that  it 
might  look  suspicious  to  call  for  more ;  and,  besides,  the  se 
curities  on  which  a  great  deal  of  its  money  was  locked  up 
would  hardly  bear  examination  even  in  the  best  of  times. 

"  If  it  weren't  for  our  advances  to  those  d d  Cuban 

sugar  fellows,  we  should  do  well  enough,"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Gainsby,  as  he  and  Mr.  Ledgeral  sat  in  anxious  consultation 
in  the  library  of  the  house  in  Washington  Square. 

Mr.  Gainsby  had  called  at  an  early  hour  before  breakfast 
to  see  his  senior  partner,  and  to  try  and  arrange  some  plan 
of  operations  before  going  down  town,  and  found  that,  like 
himself,  Mr.  Ledgeral  had  passed  a  sleepless  night,  and  was 
up  and  dressed  an  hour  before  his  usual  time. 

Mr.  Gainsby  considered  himself  a  harassed  man, — and  for 
the  time  a  thoroughly  overworked  and  used-up  man — but  if 
he  could  have  seen  his  partner  pacing  his  chamber  during  the 
silent  watches  of  the  night,  he  would  have  thanked  heaven 
for  his  own  occasional  snatches  of  sleep,  and  still  more  in 
that  his  own  watchfulness  was  caused  by  nothing  more  than 
business  anxiety,  and  that  no  pangs  of  conscience,  or  fear  of 
disgrace,  sharpened  the  dread  of  a  protested  note. 

"If  it  weren't  for  those  advances,"  said  Mr.  Gainsby, 
pointing  with  his  finger  to  some  items  in  a  schedule  which  lay 
on  the  table  before  him. 

"  Well,  whose  fault  is  that  ? "  said  Mr.  Ledgeral.  "  I  had 
nothing  to  do  with  it." 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


235 


"  You  forget,"  replied  Mr.  Gainsby  ;  "  it  is  true  I  proposed 
it,  but  you  approved  it,  and  I  suppose  the  responsibility  is 
shared  about  equally :  if  we  hadn't  done  it,  three  of  the  larg 
est  plantations  on  the  island  would  have  slipped  out  of  our 
hands." 

"  Well,  well,"  testily  replied  Mr.  Ledgeral,  "  it  is  done 
now — the  money  is  gone,  and  we  shan't  see  a  cent  of  it  back 
again  for  six  months,  at  least.  What  is  the  lowest  figure  that 
will  tide  us  over  into  next  month  ? " 

"  We  must  have  a  full  hundred  and  fifty  thousand,"  an 
swered  Mr.  Gainsby,  "  and  two-thirds  of  that  must  go  into 
the  bank  to-day.  When  I  got  those  sugar-house  notes  for 
fifty  thousand  discounted  yesterday,  I  saw  that  it  strained  our 
friends  at  the  bank  somewhat,  and  that  we  need  not  look  for 
more  in  that  quarter.  I  know  of  but  one  resource." 

"  And  what  may  that  be  ? "  demanded  Mr.  Ledgeral. 

"  We  must  go  to  Mr.  Shippen,"  replied  Mr.  Gainsby. 

"  Never,  never  !  No,  no,  that  will  never  do,"  exclaimed 
Mr.  Ledgeral,  starting  from  his  seat  and  beginning  to  pace 
up  and  down  the  room. 

Startled  at  his  sudden  vehemence,  Mr.  Gainsby  watched 
his  partner  for  a  few  minutes  in  silent  astonishment.  A  sus 
picion  suddenly  dawned  upon  his  mind  that  Mr.  Ledgeral 
had  already  been  dipping  on  his  own  account  into  the 
purse  of  the  special  partner.  He  had  had  reason  to  know 
that  Mr.  Ledgeral's  private  speculations  had  been  on  the  most 
enormous  scale,  and  it  was  pretty  certain  that  many  ol  them 
must  have  been  unsuccessful.  "  Pity,"  thought  Mr.  Gainsby, 
"  that  the  restrictions  in  the  articles  of  copartnership  should 
apply  only  to  the  junior  members  of  the  firm,  and  that  the 
head  of  the  house  had  not  been  saved  from  the  temptations 
of  the  times  also." 

"  No,  no,  I  can't  do  that ;  I  don't  want  to  bother  Uncle 
Shippen  about  any  business  matters  at  present.  Besides,  I 
know  he  has  no  money  ;  he  has  little  or  nothing  but  real  es 
tate,  and  if  he  were  disposed  to  mortgage  the  whole  of  it,  that 
would  do  us  no  good  at  the  moment." 


236  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  then  ? "  demanded  Mr.  Gainsby, 
with  a  quivering  lip.  "  Suspension  now,  would  be  perfect 
ruin.  We  may  as  well  make  up  our  minds  to  go  under  com 
pletely." 

His  partner  seemed  lost  in  thought,  and  made  ro  rep'y 
for  several  minutes. 

"  It  must  be  done,"  suddenly  muttered  Mr.  Ledgeral, 
starting  up  from  his  chair.  "  There  is  no  help  for  it ;  worse 
than  ruin — open  disgrace  if  I  hesitate.  I  have  made  the 
plunge — I  must  wade  through.  My  only  possible  chance  is 
in  saving  the  firm.  That  all  right,  I  can  turn  myself  around, 
by  spring,  before  the  fellow  arrives,  and  get  out  of  the  scrape 
without  dishonor." 

Mr.  Gainsby  listened  intently,  but  could  make  nothing1 
of  the  few  words  that  caught  his  ear  ;  while  Mr.  Ledgeral 
continued  his  walk  up  and  down,  in  a  state  of  marked  agita 
tion  and  excitement.  Drops  of  cold  perspiration  started  from 
his  forehead.  The  color  forsook  his  cheek,  and  his  lips, 
parched  and  trembling,  seemed  scarce  able  to  frame  his  in 
coherent  sentences.  Suddenly  he  seemed  to  become  sensible 
that  some  one  else  was  in  the  room,  and  throwing  himself  into 
a  chair  opposite  to  Mr.  Gainsby,  he  demanded,  with  an  effort 
at  vigor,  but  in  a  voice  still  trembling,  if  Mr.  Gainsby  was 
positively  certain  that  one  hundred  thousand  would  be  enough 
for  the  day. 

Mr.  Gainsby  pointed  to  the  schedule. 

"Well,  then,"  resumed  Mr.  Ledgeral,  "I  think  I  can  an 
swer  for  it — yes,  I  will  answer  for  it.  I  will  be  down  before 
twelve." 

"  With  the  money  ? " 

"Yes,  with  the  money.  I  shall  have  to  make  great  sacri 
fices  to  get  it ;  and  I  shall  charge  the  firm  with  any  loss  upon 
my  securities." 

Mr.  Gainsby  nodded  his  head,  and  took  up  his  hat.  "  I 
hope  there  is  no  chance  of  any  mistake  or  miscarriage,"  he 
said  hesitatingly.  "  If  there  is,  I  am  sure  our  special  will 
never  forgive  us  for  not  letting  him  know." 


NEVER  AGAIN.  237 

"  Never  fear,  I  will  be  on  hand  at  twelve ;  and  you  need 
say  nothing  to  any  one,  mind  to  any  one,  as  to  where  the 
money  comes  from." 

Mr.  Gainsby  took  his  departure,  and  a  close  observer 
might  have  noticed  that  he  left  the  house  and  strode  off  down 
Broadway  with  a  more  elastic  step  than  usual,  and  with  a 
pleasant  smile  and  a  hand  ready  to  wave  an  exceedingly  com 
placent  salute  to  every  passing  acquaintance. 

Mr.  Gainsby  was  a  precise,  fastidious  man  socially,  and 
had  never  in  his  whole  life  indulged  in  the  vulgarity,  or  rather 
the  downright  blackguardism  of  smoking  in  the  street,  and  he 
was  not  a  little  startled  at  finding  his  cigar  case  in  his  hand. 
"  I  must  indulge,"  said  he  to  himself.  "  It  is  early  yet,  and 
my  nerves  have  been  so  tightly  strained  that,  now  the  tension 
is  off,  they  jingle  and  jangle  like  fiddle-strings.  He'll  get 
the  money  no  doubt.  He  seemed  to  be  confident  of  success. 
I  wonder  where  it  will  come  from.  Ha  !  ha  !  that  was  a  very 
useless  injunction  not  to  tell  anybody — I'll  be  hanged  if  I 
know  anything  to  tell.  I  know  that  he  has  been  desperately 
short  for  a  month  past,  and  I  am  pretty  sure  he  has  already 
got  into  Uncle  Shippen,  so  how  or  where  he  can  raise  a  hun 
dred  thousand  to-day,  I  don't  know  ? " 

Mr.  Ledgeral  sat  in  his  luxurious  arm-chair  for  at  least 
half  an  hour  after  Mr.  Gainsby  had  left,  without  moving.  No 
longer  a  picture  of  mercantile  dignity,  and  condescending,  ele 
gant  dilettanteism  ;  but  rather  a  picture  of  brooding  irresolu 
tion  and  forlorn  conscience-stricken  imbecility.  The  summons 
to  breakfast  remained  unanswered.  Joseph  put  his  head  into 
the  room  for  the  second  time,  and  received  an  impatient  re. 
buff,  ending  with  an  order  to  bring  a  cup  of  coffee  into  the 
library. 

"Tears  to  me,"  muttered  Joseph,  "dat  someting's  gwine 
to  happen  bout  dese  ere  days.  I  heard  'em  say  dat  dey  had 
got  de  screws  on,  and  dat  money  is  as  tight  as  a  clam-shell. 
Yes  tighter  dan  a  clam-shell.  'Pears  to  dis  nigger  dat  some- 
ting  is  gwine  to  happen." 

^Nlr.  Ledgeral  sipped  his  coffee  quietly  for  a  few  moments, 


238  NEVER  AGAIN. 

and  then  proceeded  to  draw  from  the  recesses  of  his  portfolio 
a  letter  with  a  German  post-mark,  but  the  contents  were  written 
in  very  correct  .English.  It  was  dated  "Isenthal,"  and  con 
tained  an  enclosure  in  the  shape  of  a  bill  of  exchange.  Omit 
ting  some  remarks  upon  the  weather,  the  harvests,  and  the 
prospects  of  war,  the  letter  ran  nearly  as  follows : 

"  Yours  of  the  I3th  ult.  has  been  duly  received,  and  its  contents  thank 
fully  noted.  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  advice,  as  to  the  Illinois 
Centrals.  They  are  confident  in  Frankfort,  I  am  told,  of  an  advance,  but 
you  are  so  much  nearer  the  ground,  and  I  have  so  much  confidence  in 
the  judgment  of  a  man  who  is  at  the  head  of  so  world-renowned  a  house 
as  yours,  that  I  think  it  best  to  make  the  change  you  propose.  You  will 
consider  yourself,  therefore,  hereby  authorized  to  make  the  exchange.  En 
closed  please  find  a  first  bill  on  Barings  drawn  to  my  order  and  endorsed 
to  you  for  ten  thousand  pounds,  the  proceeds  of  which  please  invest  as  you 
have  suggested  :  half  in  your  city  six  per  cents,  and  half  in  the  stock  of 
some  sound  bank.  As  I  have  more  money  than  I  need  at  present,  I 
shall  not  draw  upon  you  for  my  coming  dividends  on  the  bonds  in  your 
hands.  You  can  hold  the  money  until  I  come  out,  which  I  hope  to  do 
early  in  the  Spring.  I  have  long  had  a  desire  to  see  your  great  and  much- 
to-be-envied  country,  and  one  of  the  pleasures  I  count  most  upon  is  that 
of  expressing  my  obligations  to  a  man  so  distinguished  and  widely  hon 
ored  as  yourself.  Permit  me  to  say  that,  as  a  young  man  entirely  igno 
rant  of  business  and  business  men,  had  it  not  been  that  I  was  attracted 
oy  your  high  reputation,  and  by  a  little  incident  which  I  will  explain  to 
you  when  I  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you,  the  money  you  have  so  hap 
pily  invested  for  me  would  have  been  most  probably  squandered. 

"  Hoping  that  this  will  find  you  in  good  health, 
"  I  am  yours  truly, 

"  Count  Albert  von  Isenthal." 

"  Fool  that  I  am  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Ledgeral.  "  Why  did 
I  write  such  a  pressing  invitation  to  visit  this  country  ?  '  If 
I  had  not  put  it  into  his  head  he  never  would  have  thought 

of  coming.     D d,  miserable  vanity !     Just   to   have   the 

pleasure  and  eclat  of  parading  about  a  rich  young  German 
count,  I  have  got  myself  into  this  scrape."  And  for  a  moment 
Mr.  Ledgeral  took  refuge  from  the  black  and  repulsive  aspect 
of  crime  in  the  contemplation  and  fierce  reprobation  of  minor 
foibles  and  weaknesses.  But  not  for  long  could  he  discharge 


NEVER  AGAIN.  239 

his  mind  of  the  fact  that  he  had  yielded  to  temptation,  and  in 
an  evil  hour  had  fallen  from  his  honorable  and  virtuous  es 
tate  down — down  to  the  ranks  of  the  criminal  class.  No,  no. 
not  quite  so  bad  as  that ;  because  from  the  first,  and  still 
more  now,  he  was  resolved  upon  restitution  with  interest  at 
the  highest  market  rate,  not  perhaps  in  money,  but  in  the 
best  of  advice  and  business  guidance.  In  this  light  It  was 
only  borrowing,  and  as  it  was  absolutely  essential  t!:at  the 
money  should  be  had  at  the  moment,  there  was  of  course  no 
time  to  write  to  the  young  man,  asking  the  loan. 

And  after  all,  it  was  only  a  portion  of  the  fund  that  had 
been  used,  only  a  hundred  thousand  ;  a  mere  bagatelle.  "  If 
that  dry  hole  that  those  rascals  ran  the  oil  into  had  really 
proved  an  eighty-barrel  well,  and  petroleum  had  kept  up  to 
eight  dollars,  it  would  have  paid  the  whole  in  less  than  six 
months.  Now  there  is,  with  this  bill  of  exchange,  just  one 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  left :  we  must  have  a  hundred 
thousand  to  day.  Necessity  knows  no  law  ;  the  very  exist 
ence  of  one  of  the  most  important  institutions  in  the  United 
States  depends  upon  it.  One  must  make  sacrifices  sometimes 
for  the  good  of  our  fellow-men.  Besides,  the  money  is  not 
to  be  wasted  or  thrown  away ;  it  will  all  come  back  again. 
And  more  than  all,  the  trust  has  been  violated,  if  you  will 
use  a  rough  term,  and  part  of  the  money  disposed  of,  and 
that  too  in  what  the  public  might  call  wild  speculations.  It 
can't  certainly  be  any  great  harm  to  go  on  a  little  further  and 
borrow  in  a  really  good  sound  cause  the  remainder." 

The  distinction  that  Mr.  Ledgeral  was  drawing  in  his 
mind,  although  very  fine,  will  be  equally  apparent  to  the 
reader.  If  the  trust  had  been  intact  there  might  be  some 
question  about  touching  it.  But  it  had  been  broken  into. 
The  thing  had  been  done — the  responsibility  had  been  in 
curred,  and  isn't  it  clear  that  any  one  assuming  such  a  respon 
sibility  acquires  a  kind  of  right  to  the  remainder  of  the  trust, 
especially  if  he  is  going  to  use  it  in  a  perfectly  honest  endeav 
or  to  replace  the  first  portion  unfortunately  lost  ? 

As   Mr.  Ledgeral  reasoned  himself  into  a  more  elevated 


240 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


anckphilosophic  view  of  the  matter,  and  his  mental  perturba 
tion  abated,  his  appetite  returned,  and  he  rang  for  Joseph  and 
inquired  if  the  ladies  had  finished  breakfast. 

"  All  done  sar,  'cept  Miss  Ledgeral,  sar,  she  nebber  don't 
done  'til  'bout  twelve  o'clock." 

"Well,  what  can  you  give  me  in  a  hurry?  I  had  no  ap 
petite  at  first,  but  I  believe  I  will  eat  a  few  mouthfuls  before 
I  go  out." 

"  Ebbery  ting  dat's  hot  am  cold,  sar,  but  I  can  get  you  a 
turkey's  leg  debbled  in  'bout  five  minutes." 

"  Well,  that  will  do,  Joseph,  and  tell  John  to  have  my 
coupu  at  the  door  in  half  an  hour."  Mr.  Ledgeral  seldom 
rode  down  town  in  his  own  carriage.  He  recollected  an  old 
maxim  of  his  father's,  that  the  young  fellow  who  rode  down 
to  business  in  his  own  carriage,  generally  had  to  walk  in  his 
old  age.  Mr.  Ledgeral  was  still  young,  that  is  he  walked  as 
vigorously  as  ever,  and  liked  the  exercise,  and  when  he  rode 
in  an  omnibus  he  felt  much  safer  amid  the  jam  and  crush  of 
carts  and  carriages.  Still  there  are  times  when  a  little  osten 
tation  is  necessary,  and  a  sight  of  his  prancing  bays  and  well- 
known  livery  might  in  this  time  of  pressure  and  panic  do  the 
"  street "  good. 

"  Tears  to  me,"  said  Joseph,  as  Mr.  Ledgeral  drove  off 
after  a  hurried,  but  hearty  breakfast — "  'pears  to  me  we  ain't 
going  to  bust  nor  nothing  dis  time.  I  recomlect  way  back  to 
thirty-sebben — O  Lord,  I  was  a  young  man  den  ! — when  we 
had  ter  sospend  for  a  week.  Nobody  eat  any  debble  turkey- 
leg  den.  No,  sar.  De  old  man  he  eat  nothing  but  a  cracker, 
and  a  pint  or  two  of  brandy,  and  de  young  one — Misser 
Court  here — he  almost  starve  hisself  to  death  on  lobster-salad 
and  Champagne.  O  Lord,  I  recomlect  dat  we — dat  is  he  and 
me  togedder — spile  more  nor  a  basket  in  tree  days.  If  dat 
panic  hadn't  sumsided — I  tell  you  what,  it  would  hab  bust  dis 
nigger's  head  open — yes,  sar !  Good-morning,  sar  !  walk  in, 
sar  !  "  exclaimed  Joseph,  throwing  open  the  front  door  in  an 
swer  to  a  ring  of  the  bell,  and  saluting  Luther,  who  stood  upon 
the  steps.  "  For  Miss  Helen,  sar?  ah,  yes,  I  will  gib  it  to  her 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


241 


— she  is  in  de  parlor  now.  Won't  you  gib  it  yourself?  Tears 
to  me,"  continued  the  old  man,  as  Luther,  having  handed  him 
his  card  and  a  roll  of  manuscript  addressed  to  Miss  Helen 
Ledgeral,  turned  and  tripped  rapidly  down  the  steps,  "  'pears 
to  me," — but  the  sentence  was  left  unfinished,  as  Mrs.  Ledg 
eral  at  that  moment  stepped  into  the  hall. 

"  What  is  that,  Joseph  ? " 

"  It  is  a  card  from  one  ob  de  young  gemmenob  de  party," 
replied  Joseph,  dexterously  whipping  the  roll  of  manuscript 
into  his  voluminous  coat  pocket  and  dropping  the  card  into  his 
silver  waiter. 

Mrs.  Ledgeral  took  the  card  and  looked  at  it. 

"  Nonsense  !  "  she  exclaimed,  twisting  up  the  card  in  her 
fingers,  and  leisurely  ascended  the  stairs. 

Joseph  put  his  head  into  the  parlor.  "  Miss  Helen,"  he 
said,  looking  around  to  see  that  no  one  was  present.  "  Dat 
young  man  ob  de  steamboat !  He  bring  dis  for  you.  I 
doesn't  tink  it  is  a  bilyer  doo,  cause  it's  rolled  up  so.  No,  I 
doesn't  tink  it  is  a  bilyer  doo." 

"  Nonsense  ! "  exclaimed  Helen,  taking  the  roll. 

'  Dat's  just  what  her  mudder  say,"  muttered  Joseph  as  he 
left  the  room.  "  Nonsense  !  I  guess  it  is  nonsense,  but 
'pears  to  me  der  is  a  good  deal  ob  it  about." 

The  old  man  had  no  reference  especially  to  Luther's 
poetry,  and  was  quite  unconscious  of  the  wide  application  to 
modern  poetry  his  remark  was  capable  of. 

Helen  waited  not  to  unroll  the  manuscript,  but  tripped 
lightly  from  the  parlor  up  stairs.  The  door  of  her  mother's 
room  stood  ope'n,  and  the  naughty  girl  was  going  to  steal 
quietly  by.  She  had  nothing  to  conceal — oh  !  no ;  but  then 
her  mother  might  make  some  inquiry  about  the  manuscript  in 
her  hand,  and  some  things  are  so  trifling — so  ridiculous  in  fact 
— that  it  is  not  pleasant  to  explain  them.  Therefore,  in 
answer  to  her  mother's  call,  she  merely  put  her  head  within 
the  half-opened  door.  "What  is  it,  mamma  ?  " 

"  Helen,  do  you  know  that  young  man  has  called  and  left 
his  card  ? " 

16 


242  NEVER    AGAIN. 

"  What  young  man,  mamma  ?  " 

"  That  Luther  Lansdale." 

" Indeed !  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  think  it  a  great  piece  of  impertinence." 

"  It  would  have  been  more  polite  and  attentive  in  him  to 
have  come  in  and  paid  his  party  call  in  person,"  replied 
Helen  in  the  most  innocent  tone. 

"  Pshaw  !  "  and  that  was  all  Mrs.  Ledgeral  vouchsafed  to 
utter  in  reply. 

Very  wrong  in  Helen  to  thus  play  upon  a  fond  mother's 
feelings  but  we  have  never  said  that  she  was  a  perfect  char 
acter — only  a  very  good  girl,  as  girls  go.  As  her  mother 
turned  away  the  slightest  twinkle  of  humor  lighted  up  the 
demure  expression  of  the  naughty  girl's  face,  and  rapidly 
mounting  the  stairs  she  gained  her  own  room. 

Let  us  follow  her  and  read  the  lines  with  her  as  she  runs 
over  them.  We  have  said  that  Luther  had  quite  a  talent  for 
drawing.  Now  a  novelist  is  bound,  when  he  makes  an  as 
sertion,  to  prove  it,  when  he  can.  Unlike  the  historian,  a 
novelist  is  nothing  unless  he  is  truthful.  It  is  the  privilege 
of  the  historian  to  misstate  facts  and  pervert  testimony,  and 
distort  character  until  the  confounded  reader  is  left  with  the 
very  dimmest  conceptions  of  what  is  true,  and  what  is  not 
true  ;  but  the  novelist  must  tell  nothing  that  in  the  depths 
of  his  moral  consciousness  he  does  not  know  to  be  true,  and 
he  is  bound  to  furnish  his  proof — he  is  bound  to  make  his 
characters  think,  say,  and  do,  at  least,  a  little  of  what  he 
vaunts  their  ability,  so  as  to  let  the  reader  judge  for  himself. 
Alas,  that  this  rule  should  be  so  often  utterly  neglected ! 

We  should,  however,  hardly  be  able  to  afford  so  much 
space  to  a  proof  that  Luther  has  a  turn  for  drawing,  were  it 
not  that  the  verses  themselves  contain  an  applicable  moral. 
Helen  saw  the  point  and  felt  it  at  once  —  what  better  modern 
representation  of  the  famous  Kaiser  than  a  great  New  York 
commission-merchant,  or  of  Engenhard  than  a  clerk  in  a 
"  store  down  town," — and  it  made  her  heart  flutter  in  a  way  the 
mere  poetry  never  could  have  done  as  she  read  the 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


243 


LEGEND   OF  CHARLEMAGNE. 

LET  me  beguile  your  thoughts  awhile 

With  rude  but  truthful  lay, 
Far  back  along  Time's  Nile-like  stream — 
Far  back  through  History's  phantom  dream  — 

Far  back  to  the  olden  day 


What  time  one  name  was  mouthed  of  fame, 

And  fell,  and  field,  and  town, 
Throughout  Christ's  realm  from  Tiber's  flow 
To  where  Rhine's  channels  seaward  go, 
Basked  in  its  fierce  renown. 


244 


NEVER  AGAIN 

O'er  Aix  draws  night,  and  the  last  light, 
This  drear  November's  day, 

The  royal  city's  streets  has  fled  ; 

E'en  scarce  a  star  gleams  overhead, 

And  shadows  thick  with  things  of  dread 
Through  court  and  cloister  play. 


And  hushed  is  all,  save  one  foot-fall, 

That  stirs  the  spectred  air, 
And  frights  the  guard — "A  spirit !  hist !" 
A  gallant  sprite,  who  keeps  his  tryst 

With  Imma,  fond  as  fair. 


NEVER  AGAIN. 

'Tis  Engenhard  who  frights  the  guard, 
As  he  the  courts  creeps  o'er, 

To  where  a  postern,  deep  in  shade, 

Is  sentried  only  by  the  maid, 

With  hand  on  the  yielding  door. 


245 


'Tis  Engenhard,  king  s  scribe  and  bard, 

A  clerk  of  low  degree. 
The  Kaiser's  child  is  in  his  arms, 
He  dares  to  taste  her  princely  charms 

With  lip  so  bold  and  free, — 
He  dares  to  clasp  her  to  his  breast 

With  Love's  audacity. 


246  NEVER  AGAIN. 

How  long  he  stays, — how  vows  and  prays. 

With  all  that  there  befell, 
How  oft  they  share  the  burning  kiss, 
How  deeply  sip  love's  madd'ning  bliss 
It  booteth  not  to  tell. 


Enough  to  say,  ere  break  of  day, 

They  seek  the  private  door, 
One  last  caress,  and  then,  "  Good-night,"— 
Ah,  Christ  defend  !  fresh  snow  so  white 

The  court-yard  carpets  o'er. 

And  all  on  high  stars  gem  the  sky, 
And  glint  from  spire  to  spire, 
And  shimmer  down  the  frosted  towers 
Into  the  court  in  lustrous  showers 
Of  glitt'ring  diamond  fire  : 

While  all  below  the  lucent  snow 

Gleams  pitiless  and  hard. 
"  Good  Jesu.  aid  ! — liow  light  ! "  she  cries. 
"  'Tis  not  the  light  I  fear,"  he  sighs  ; 
"  Nor  yet  the  drowsy  guard. 

"  Far  more  I  dread  my  manly  tread 

Our  trysting  will  reveal. 
Oh  !  cursed  chance  that  brought  this  snow 
'Tis  death  to  stay,  'tis  death  to  go  ; 

My  steps  I  can't  conceal. 

*  And  well  I  ween,  my  foot-prints  seen, 

The  fierce  and  hungry  pack 
Of  scandal's  hounds  will  seize, the  clue, 
And  hang  with  noses  sharp  and  true 

Upon  my  tell-tale  track." 

"  Thou  may'st  not  stay,  yet  hold  !  a  way  !  " 

Out  cries  the  witty  fair, 

"  By  which  we'll  fault  their  staunchest  hound 
Come  clasp  me  thus  my  neck  around, 

And  thee  across  I'll  bear. 


NEVER  AGAIN.. 

"My  foot,  so  small,  'twill  puzzle  all 

To  read  the  riddle  right. 
Come,  clasp  me  thus — in  such  sore  strait 
Love  lends  his  aid — nay,  do  not  wait, 

Shame  rides  the  coming  light." 


247 


No  time  to  lose,  nor  else  to  choose, 

All's  lost  by  more  delay. 
Around  her  neck  he  deftly  clings, 
Around  his  form  her  arms  she  flings, 
And  totters  on  her  way 


248  NEVER  AGAIN. 

Uneasy  bed  hath  crowned  head. 
Sore  truth  of  Charlemagne. 
Now  pacing  slow  his  chamber  round, 
Revolving  plans  of  state  profound, — 
Now  studying  stars,  anon  the  ground, 
From  narrow  oillet  pane. 


Beneath  his  eyes  tne  court-yard  lies: 

Ah  !  could  the  lovers  know 
What  eye  above  is  looking  down — 
How  fierce  the  glance  !  how  stern  the  frown  ! 

That  trails  them  o'er  the  snow. 

"  Ho  !  warders,  ho  !  my  trumpets  blow, 

Arouse  my  sluggard  Peers." 
Alas  !  that  voice,  that  furious  tread 
That  flashing  eye,  I  greatly  dread, 

Betoken  blood  and  tears. 


NEVER  AGAIN. 

The  purple  hours  scarce  tinge  the  towers, 

Incrust  with  snowy  flakes, 
When  starting  at  the  brazen  call, 
The  nobles  seek  the  judgment  hall, 

And  all  astir  is  Aix. 

Scarce  dies  the  blast,  when  striding  fast 

Mal'gigi  heads  the  train, 
Rinaldo  next,  then  Gan,  forsworn  ; 
Oliver  ;  with  Ortuel,  paynim  born  ; 
Astolpho, — him  of  the  magic  horn, 

And  Ogier  the  Dane. 


249 


And  not  the  least  at  fight  or  feast, 

Sir  Roland  heeds  the  call, 
While  groans  and  clanks  at  every  stride 
That  magic  sword  whose  sweep  so  wide 
Can  e'en  the  rocks  and  hills  divide, 
The  wondrous  Durandall. 


2  co  NEVEK  AGAIN. 

In  solemn  state  all  grimly  wait 

The  Kaiser's  stern  commands  ; 

His  banner  waving  o'er  each  knight, 

And  each  in  gleaming  steel  bedight, 

And  each  on  his  proud  hilt  of  might 

Supporting  mailed  hands. 

The  hall  now  filled,  and  voices  stilled, 

All  eyes  the  Kaiser  seek : 
"  Peers,  paladins,  to  traitorous  deed 
Should  be  affirmed  a  fitting  meed, 

Your  judgment  I  bespeak. 

"  Pronounce  the  fate  of  low  ingrate, — 

This  scribbling,  rhyming  youth, 
Who  has,  with  clerkly  arts,  beguiled 
This  faithless  maid — your  sovereign's  chiH- 
From  fealty  and  from  truth. 

"  Say  what  his  fate,  who  from  such  state 

Lures  her  to  tryst  so  low, 
And  then  to  hide  his  villain  track, 
Dares  to  betask  her  princely  back, 
And  ride  thus  o'er  the  snow." 

He  looks  around  : — at  first  no  sound  ; 

Close  held  is  every  breath  ; 
And  then,  in  swelling  tones  from  all, 
Resounds  throughout  the  lofty  hall, 

"  The  traitor's  doom  is — Death  !  " 

Ha  !  see,  that  frown  is  softening  down, 

And  in  that  eagle  eye 
A  gleam  of  humor,  scant  and  dim, 
Compels  the  shadows,  dark  and  grim, 

Reluctantly  to  fly. 

"  Now,  by  God's  truth,  this  daring  youth 
Deserves  that  death  to  die, 

But  Love  the  pang  of  death  disdains  ; 

So,  ere  the  law's  extremest  pains, 

It  is  my  pleasure  that  in  chains 
Repenting  he  should  lie." 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


251 


The  Kaiser  smiled,  then  lifts  his  child 

From  suppliance  at  his  knee  : — 
"  Here,  take  this  leasing,  meeching  bard, 
With  priestly  aid  go  bind  him  hard, 
In  Hymen's  chains  him  safely  guard  ; 
His  warder  thou  shalt  be." 

Hand  clasped  in  hand,  the  lovers  stand, 

O'erwhelmed  with  hope  and  fear, 
Half  doubting  if  that  voice  of  might, 
Thus  fraught  with  mercy,  fall  aright 
Upon  the  questioning  ear. 


252 


NEVER   AGAIN. 

But  cheers  from  all  r.ow  fill  the  hall, 

With  brave  and  loyal  cries, 
Till  through  the  doors  the  echoes  roll 
And  voice  the  instincts  of  the  soul, 
At  Love's  assured  emprise. 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


253 


As  Mr.  Ledgeral's  carriage  moved  down  into  the  thickest 
of  the  crowd  at  Fulton  Street,  he  grew  not  only  perfectly  com 
posed,  but  even  elated.  In  the  first  place  the  affair  was  set 
tled,  and,  as  the  good  book  says,  it  is  wrong  to  put  your  hand 
to  the  plough  and  look  back.  Banish  these  vain  thoughts  and 
regrets,  and  useless  sentimentalizings.  This  world  is  a  world 
of  struggle.  No  matter  how  much  the  preacher  denounces 
the  objects  of  the  struggle,  we  are  so  constituted  that  we  can 
not  help  taking  a  deep  interest  in  the  vanities  around  us.  The 
fault — if  there  is  a  fault — is  the  fault  of  circumstance,  and  it  is 
sheer  nonsense  to  talk  and  preach  the  way  people  do.  The 
moment  you  come  to  put  the  matter  into  precise  scientific  lan 
guage,  the  fallacy  is  apparent ;  you  see  the  absolute  necessity 
for  the  adaptation  of  our  temperaments  and  our  mental  and 
moral  habitudes  to  the  peculiar  character  of  our  environments. 
The  great  object,  then,  is  success.  No  matter  at  what  cost  of 
health  or  even  conscience.  The  world  worships  it.  Society 
rewards  it  with  her  best  gifts.  Not  to  succeed  is  wicked.  It 
is  only  the  successful  man  who  can  really  do  much  good  in  the 
world.  And  how  easy  for  the  successful  man  to  atone  for  any 
thing  wrong  which  he  has  done.  He  does  not  always  do  it, 
and  there  he  is  to  blame ;  and,  in  such  cases,  he  will,  unques 
tionably,  be  blamed,  if  not  here,  at  least  hereafter.  But  if  he 
always  has  his  money  ready  for  the  plate,  if  he  heads  subscrip 
tion  lists  for  philanthropic  purposes,  presides  on  committees 
of  benevolent  institutions,  and  does  a  pretty  fair  amount  of 
private  charity,  why,  just  think  of  what  an  amount  of  good  he 
may  do ;  and  it  is  only  a  successful  man  that  can  do  good  in 
this  way. 

True,  Mr.  Ledgeral  was  not  exactly  satisfied  with  the  force 
of  this  reasoning,  but  it  had  its  soothing  effect,  and  why  con 
sider  its  weak  points  too  closely  ?  We  all  have  the  faculty  of 
shutting  our  eyes  to  logical  flaws  when  we  don't  want  to  see 
them.  The  same  as  some  of  us  have  to  material  sights  and 
scenes.  How  often  in  walking  the  streets  do  we  come  across 
some  shocking  or  revolting  sight,  or  sound,  or  smell? — a 
filthy,  reeling  drunkard ;  a  worn-out  omnibus-horse  kicking 


254 


NEVER  AC  A IX. 


and  struggling  as  he  lies  on  the  slippery  pavement ;  a  wretched 
and  abandoned  girl,  flaunting  her  misery  in  tawdry  finery ;  a 
volley  of  profanity  and  blackguardism  from  some  licensed 
devil's  den  ;  or  some  horrible  odor  from  unmoved  garbage  or 
neglected  gutters,  bad  enough  in  itself,  but  which  is  infinitely 
more  horrible  as  a  suggestion  of  intense  rottenness  in  munici 
pal  high-places  ! — How  often  we  see,  hear,  or  smell  something 
of  the  kind  ;  and  how  miserable  we  should  be  if  the  sensitive 
ones  among  us  had  not  the  happy  faculty  of  shutting  down  the 
windows  of  the  mind  upon  the  reports  of  the  senses,  and  men 
tally  turning  away,  as  if  the  sight,  sound,  or  smell  were  not ; 
as  if  it  had  no  objective  existence.  So  it  is  in  ethics  and  in 
logic.  The  disagreeable  facts  of  duty  and  truth  are  continu 
ally  meeting  us,  and  what  miserable  devils  we  should  be  in 
the  beautiful  and  splendid  society  of  to-day,  if  we  were  com 
pelled,  by  our  mental  constitution,  to  look  at  them — to  stare 
straight  at  them,  to  take  them  in  in  their  full  force,  or  if,  by 
some  accident,  having  sucked  tl-em,  as  irritating  and  offend 
ing  materials,  clear  into  the  inmost  recesses  of  consciousness, 
we  had  not  the  power,  oyster-like,  of  secreting  a  benign  enve 
lope,  and  converting  the  rough  grains  and  thorns  of  truth  and 
right  into  beautiful,  smooth,  glittering  pearls  and  jewels,  for  a 
fastidious  moral  sense  to  play  with. 

Another  elevating  and  soothing  influence  that  swept  across 
Mr.  Ledgeral's  mind,  as  he  reached  the  head  of  what  is 
known  as  par  excellence  "  the  street,"  was  simple  sympathy 
with  outward  circumstances.  Just  as  when  in  some  majestic 
cathedral,  amid  the  lofty  arches  ;  the  dusky  aisles  ;  the  stained 
windows  ;  the  marble  floors,  tesselated  with  the  memento  marts 
of  departed  faith,  or  valor,  or  beauty ;  the  mind  is  attuned  to 
a  feeling  of  the  deepest  devotion — just  as  when,  in  some  Al 
pine  valley,  where  the  mountains  lift  their  heads  into  the 
region  of  eternal  snow,  and  their  sunless,  sombre  flanks  are 
lighted  only  by  the  gleam  of  the  glacier  ;  an  emotion  of  gran 
deur  and  sublimity  steals  over  the  soul,  and  lifts  it  from 
nature  up  to  nature's  God — just  as  when  by  some  lonely  lake, 
dimpled  in  wooded  hills,  illumined  by  a  summer's  setting  sun, 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


255 


or,  as  when  by  some  gentle  brook,  flowing  at  noontide,  in 
shadowy  coolness,  through  fields  and  pastures  specked  and 
spangled  with  beauty,  and  sparkling  and  tinkling  with  all  the 
grateful  sights  and  sounds  of  man's  first  and  happiest  occu 
pation,  the  heart  is  overwhelmed  with  a  flood  of  soft,  loving 
sentiment,  a  thrilling  sense  of  the  beautiful  diffusing  itself 
through  our  whole  frame,  and  looking  up  in  an  ecstasy  of  joy, 
we  cry,  "  God  made  the  country,  man  made  the  town, — I  will 
go  where  I  can  best  enjoy  God's  work;  I  will  have  a  nice 
little  villa,  where  I  can  praise  Him  forever" — just  so,  when 
one  turns  into  "  the  street,"  the  bustle,  the  confusion,  the 
countless  evidences  and  suggestions  of  financial  activity,  the 
hurrying  crowds,  the  eager  faces,  the  ever-slamming  bank- 
doors,  the  yawning  brokers'  dens,  with  hosts  of  men  and  boys 
diving  down,  and  then  bubbling  up- again  to  the  surface,  many 
of  them  flustered  and  excited,  many  of  them  worn  and  cadav 
erous-looking,  as  if  they  had  been  chewed-up  once  and  spit 
out  again  by  some  horrible  monster — just  so  the  mysterious 
chain  of  sympathy  begins  to  vibrate,  the  pulse  quickens,  the 
muscles  quiver,  the  hands  burn  and  itch,  the  blood  rushes  to 
that  little  fasciculus  of  the  brain  whose  spiral  twisting,  ac 
cording  to  the  great  Professor  Tyndal,  produces  the  sentiment 
of  greed,  and  a  flood  of  emotion  surges  home  upon  the  heart. 
The  poor  innocent  who  ventures  into  "  the  street "  soon  feels 
as  must  have  felt  an  old  knight,  amid  the  flaunting  of  banners, 
and  clanking  of  steel,  and  the  exhortations  of  Peter  the  her 
mit.  He  feels  that  he  too  must  draw  his  sword,  or,  if  not  a 
sword,  at  least  a  bill  of  exchange,  or  a  bank-check,  and  rush 
into  the  heady  current  of  the  fight.  What  the  tomb  of  Christ 
was  to  a  Tancred,  or  a  Godfrey,  or  the  Holy  Grail  to  Sir 
Galahad,  a  good  bank-balance,  with  a  portfolio  full  of  notes 
and  bonds,  a  gold  mine,  a  steamboat  line,  or  the  majority  of 
the  shares  in  a  big  railroad,  is  to  the  knight  errant  of  modern 
society,  who,  in  quest  of  adventures,  once  wanders  amid  the 
enchanted  cobble-stones  of  "the  street." 

And  what  more  natural  than  that  this  excitement;  this  in 
tense  preoccupation  with  the  most  important  interests  of  life  ; 


256  NEVER  AGAL\'. 

this  tremendous  exacerbation  of  the  combative  instincts  ;  this 
complete  concentration  of  all  our  powers,  mental  and  physical, 
in  what  used  to  be  foolishly  decried  as  a  vain  heaping  up  of 
riches,  but  which  is  now  known,  since  Darwin's  discovery, 
as  an  inevitable  and  universal  struggle  for  existence — what 
more  natural  than  that  this  should  blunt  our  perceptions  of 
right  and  wrong,  and  somewhat  obfuscate  our  moral  sight  ? 
Richard  was  a  generous  man,  and  chivalric — but  is  it  to  be 
supposed  that,  if,  at  the  confused  and  bloody  melees  of  Li- 
messo,  or  Askalon,  his  two-handed  sword,  in  its  wide,  death- 
dealing  sweep,  had  encountered  the  head  of  woman  or  child, 
— is  it  to  be  supposed  that  he  would  have  stopped  to  whine 
over  the  accident,  or  have  even  felt  in  his  lion-heart  one  pang 
at  anything  that  might  perhaps  be  strictly  considered  uncourt- 
eous  and  unknightly  in  the  blow?  So  in  the  turmoil  of  "the 
street,"  no  one  can  be  accountable  for  all  the  accidents,.the 
slips  and  slides,  the  little  malfeasances  that  almost  invariably 
occur  in  the  course  of  any  tremendous  and  exciting  deed  of 
financial  deering-do.  That  is,  not  so  fully  accountable  as  a 
man  who  has  never  ventured  beyond  the  quiet  pursuits  of 
professional  life,  or  who,  shrinking  from  the  glare  of  specula 
tion,  has  wholly  confined  his  etiolated  intellects  to  the  shady 
walks  of  humble  trade.  Of  course  no  one  would  like  to  ven 
ture  so  far  out  of  the  path  of  church  dogma  as  to  maintain  that  a 
Wall  Street  financier — like  a  New  York  office-holder — is  not  in 
a  moderate  degree  accountable  for  any  little  deviations  from 
the  rigid  path  of  right  or  truth.  He  is  accountable,  and  he 
knows  it  He  is  accountable  to  his  bankers,  he  is  account 
able  to  his  brokers,  he  is  perhaps  accountable  to  the  stock- 
board,  and  to  his  club ;  but  beyond  that,  he  loses  all  sense  of 
accountability,  and  therefore  it  would  be  wrong  to  try  him 
and  judge  him  by  laws  well  enough  in  the  abstract,  but  hav 
ing,  in  times  of  excitement,  but  little  or  no  force  in  "the 
street." 

We  have  used  very  freely,  and  perhaps  at  too  much 
length,  the  very  commonplace  figure  of  a  battle,  in  order  to 
show  the  great  trials,  and  temptations,  and  accidents  that 


NEVER  AGAIN.  257 

visit  the  career  of  a  virtuous  speculator,  and  to  prevent,  or  at 
least  to  mitigate  as  far  as  possible,  any  harshness  of  judgment 
in  the  case  of  the  rich  Mr.  Ledgeral,  the  respectable  Mr. 
Ledgeral,  the  head  of  the  great  firm  of  Ledgeral,  Shippen 
&  Co.  Perhaps  a  better  figure,  certainly  a  newer  one, 
to  illustrate  the  mental  condition  and  moral  sentiments 
of  a  stock  speculator,  would  be  that  of  an  enterprising 
traveller  endeavoring  to  ford  on  horseback  a  raging,  rapid 
river.  He  starts  from  the  bank,  a  little  fearful  perhaps, 
but  full  of  hope,  and  with  all  his  senses  about  him  :  a  few 
steps,  he  is  up  to  his  saddle-girths  in  the  raging,  roaring  wa 
ters.  And  now  everything  grows  confused  and  unsteady. 
The  whole  world  seems  turning  topsy-turvy,  and  his  eyes 
fairly  swim  in  his  head  as  the  countless  swirls  of  foam  go 
seething  by.  All  that  he  can  really  be  said  to  see  is  that,  if 
he  keeps  a  straight  course,  he  is  gone.  He  feels,  he  knows 
that,  while  giving  his  beast  a  loose  rein,  he  must — yes,  he  must 
— head  a  little  up-stream.  Now  that  was  all  that  Mr.  Ledg 
eral  was  doing  when  he  borrowed  the  very  confiding  young 
Count's  money :  he  was  simply  heading  a  little  up-stream. 

Had  any  inquisitive  people  chosen  to  dog  Mr.  Ledgeral's 
footsteps  after  he  had  entered  "  the  street,"  they  would  have 
been  struck  with  an  apparent  inconsistency  in  his  movements. 
First,  he  went  to  the  bank  where  he  kept  his  private  account, 
and,  demanding  his  box  of  securities,  drove  to  a  broker,  with 
whom  he  left  orders  to  sell  immediately  one  hundred  thousand 
in  bonds  of  the  Illinois  Central  and  Hudson  River  Railroads. 
Next  to  an  exchange  broker,  with  whom  he  left  his  bill  on  the 
Barings  with  directions  to  have  the  proceeds  ready  in  an 
hour's  time,  when  he  would  call  for  them.  Next  to  another 
stock-broker's  office,  leaving  peremptory  orders  to  buy  fifty 
thousand  in  city  sixes  and  certain  bank  stocks. 

But  why  buy  and  sell  simultaneously  ?  Why  not  cash  the 
bill  of  exchange  and  use  the  proceeds  directly  ?  Ah,  there 
comes  a  beautiful  example  of  the  financial  punctilio.  To 
borrow  a  few  unregistered,  and  consequently  disposable  secu- 

ties  belonging  to  another  person  that  happen  to  be  in  your 


258  A'ETEK  AGAIX. 

possession,  is  one  thing ;  to  appropriate  money  sent  with 
specific  orders  for  investment  is  another.  Mr.  Ledgeral  had 
to  answer  his  correspondent's  letter,  and  he  felt  the  impossi 
bility  of  writing  a  direct  flagrant  untruth.  Besides  if  the 
worst  came  to  the  worst,  his  full  power  of  attorney  \\ould  en 
able  him  to  quietly  borrow  the  money — no  matter  how  in 
vested. 

And  now  again  to  his  selling  broker's  office,  where  the 
certified  checks  of  some  of  the  best  men  in  town  were  await 
ing  him,  and  thence  to  the  counting-house  at  Burling  Slip. 

How  proudly  pranced  the  bays  as  the  liveried  coachman 
deftly  guided  them  through  the  crowds  of  market-carts, 
express-wagons,  omnibuses,  and  lumbering  drays.  Quite  like 
a  conquering  hero  Mr.  Ledgeral  drew  up  at  the  door,  and, 
dismounting  from  his  triumphal  car,  and  briskly  ascending  to 
the  private  office,  laid  the  checks  upon  Mr.  Gainsby's  desk. 

And  so  was  saved  the  great  house  of  Ledgeral,  Shippen 
&  Co.,  at  a  time  when  nothing  short  of  an  Astor,  a  Vander- 
bilt,  a  Moses  Taylor,  a  Dan  Drew,  a  John  Morrissey,  or  a 
Gould  could  have  borrowed  a  dollar.  How  many  persons 
and  firms  on  the  brink  of  ruin  have  been  saved  in  a  similar 
way,  and  the  good  public  never  a  bit  the  wiser  ? 


CHAPTER  XIII.     . 

Table  Talk — A  Worldly  Woman — Spiritualistic  Infidelity — Mrs.  Lasher's 
Discourse  on  Congeniality  and  Grammar — Whoppers  Vulgar  as  usual 
— More  and  more  Metaphorical — The  Divaricating  Principle  in 
Domestic  Life  Noted. 

THE  "dinner-things"  had  vanished  as  if  by  magic,  but 
really  by  the  dexterous  swoop  of  a  sable  Ganymede  and 
two  slattern  Hebes  of  the  Milesian  type.  The  comestibles 
and  condiments  had  pretty  much  gone  maw-ward,  and  were 
rapidly  being  developed  into  the  higher  forms  of  organic  life 
in  the  persons  of  Mrs.  Lasher  and  Dr.  Droney  and  other 
guests  making  up  the  gratified  and  grateful  circle  that  daily 
gathered  around  Miss  Jones'  generous  board.  The  dirty 
glasses  and  greasy  plates  and  empty  pudding-dishes  had  gone 
kitchen-ward,  followed  by  the  soiled  and  rainbow-hued  table 
cloth  and  the  rumpled  napkins,  exhaling  an  odor  compounded 
of  bar-soap,  beef-steak  gravy,  and  onion-sauce.  The  hot 
political  discussion  had  ended  as  usual — both  sides  getting 
the  best  of  it.  The  latest  city  and  foreign  news  had  been  ex 
hausted  as  a  topic  of  conversation,  and  the  brilliant  current 
of  chaff  with  which  the  meal  had  commenced  was  reduced  to 
a  few  volatile  flakes  from  the  threshing-machine  of  the  editor 
of  the  Universe. 

A  clever  writer  could  in  this  way,  or  something  like  it,  fill 
two  pages  with  the  announcement  that  dinner  was  over,  but 
as  w.e  have  not  the  two  pages  to  spare,  we  forbear  to  test  at 
this  time  our  abilities,  or  to  experiment  upon  the  patience  of 
the  reader.  Sufficient  to  say  that  a  very  good  general  board 
ing-house  dinner  had  come  to  an  end,  and  that  some  of  the 
convives  had  risen,  and  sauntered  off  into  the  drawing-room,  to 
a  course  of  piano  and  cards,  while  others  still  lingered  around 
the  mahogany  sipping  their  coffee  or  tea. 


260  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"  And  now  my  sucking  Croesus,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers, 
"  when  you  have  put  a  colophon  to  Miss  Jones'  bounteous  feed, 
just  let  us  know  what  you  intend  to  do  with  yourself." 

"Put  a  what,  Mr.  Whoppers?"  demanded  Mrs.  Lasher  in 
her  most  sepulchral  voice. 

"  A  colophon." 

"  And  what  is  a  colophon  ?  " 

"Good  heavens!  Mrs.  Lasher,"  replied  Mr.  Whoppers, 
"you  an  advocate  of  woman's  rights,  and  not  know  what  a 
colophon  is !  It  is  a  corps  of  cavalry.  It  is  the  last  lick  with 
the  broom-stick  in  a  domestic  muss.  It  is  the  coming  female 
suffrage  which  is  to  close  up  the  miserable  accounts  of 
society,  and  write  '  Finis'  to  all  the  imperfections  of  the  world 
in  general." 

"  Nonsense  ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lasher. 

"  Exactly.  '  You  know  how  it  is  yourself.'  But  if  you 
think  nonsense  keep  it  to  yourself.  I'll  none  of  it." 

"  What  folly,  Mr.  Whoppers,  for  a  sensible  man  to  talk  as 
you  do.  Explain  yourself." 

"  And  must  I  ravel  up  the  seam  of  folly  ?  Not  a  bit  of 
it ;  and  so,  Luther,  when  you  have  colophonized  your  retreat 
ing  dinner  with  that  cup  of  tea,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with 
yourself?  If  you  have  no  engagement  I  have  something  to  pro 
pose." 

"  What  is  it  ? "  demanded  Luther. 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Stichen  was  quite  impressive  the  other  night 
at  the  party,  and  asked  me  to  come  up  and  see  her.  She 
takes  a  great  interest  in  you,  I  know.  What  do  you  say  ? 
For  a  wonder  I  am  free  to-night.  Shall  we  go  and  pay  our 
devotions  at  the  shrine  of  the  rising  goddess  ?  " 

"I'm  willing,"  replied  Luther.  "  She  gave  me  a  very  cor 
dial  invitation  also/' 

"  A  young  man  might  be  better  employed,"  interposed 
Mrs.  Lasher,  "  than  in  visiting  such  a  person.  Don't  you 
think  so,  Dr.  Droney  ?  I  have  nothing  to  say  to  Mr.  Whop 
pers,  he  is  old  enough  to  know  better ;  but  you,  Mr.  Lansdale, 
are  a  very  yaung  man,  and  have  a  great  deal  to  learn,  which 


NEVER  AGAIN.  261 

in  some  respects  I  hope  you  never  may  learn.  Don't  you 
think  so,  Dr.  Droney  ? " 

"  Indeed,  madam,"  replied  the  Doctor  in  his  most  unctu 
ous  tones,  "  I  cordially  agree  with  you  :  '  train  up  a  child,'  as 
the  good  book  says,  '  in  the  way  he  shall  go,'  and  '  just  as  the 
twig  is  bent,  the  tree's  inclined,'  and  '  follow  not  after  her 
whose  steps  lead  down — down  to — to — the — bad  place." 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  mean  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Whoppers. 
"  To  you  mean  to  insinuate  anything  against  the  character  of 
Mrs.  Stichen  ?  If  you  do — " 

"  Mr.  Whoppers,  Mr.  Whoppers,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Lasher, 
"  I  am  shocked  at  your  profanity  !  Anywhere  and  at  any  time 
it's  awful ;  but,  in  the  presence  of  this  reverend  and  holy 
man,  and  of  a  lady  who,  if  not  old  enough  to  be  your  mother, 
is  not  such  a  mere  girl  as  not  to  know  what  is  due  to  female 
propriety  and  decorum." 

"  Female  propriety  and  decorum  be — be  hanged — damned, 
I  was  going  to  say,  but  I  won't  just  at  this  moment.  What  I 
want  to  know  is — " 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Lasher  shuddering,  and  holding 
both  hands  to  her  face.  "  Oh,  Doctor  dear,  do  you  hear  him  ? 
He  denounces — he  does  more,  he  damns  female  propriety  and 
decorum.  No,  no,  Mr.  Whoppers,  don't  go  on,  sir  ;  stop  imme 
diately  ;  I  will  not  listen  to  you  ;  I  will  not  listen  to  you  ;  it  is 
too  awful ;  it  is  too  horrible.  Oh,  Doctor,  can't  you  say  a 
word  to  the  young  man  who  is  thus  being  led  astray  ? " 

Thus  exhorted,  the  Doctor  turned  to  Luther,  and  ex 
claimed  in  tones  of  solemn  severity,  "  You  see,  young  man,  the 
awful  gulf  yawning  at  your  feet.  Beware,  beware,  Luther ! 
listen  not  to  the  song  of  the  charmer,  charm  he  or  she  ever  so 
wisely." 

Luther  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair  and  laughed  heart 
ily. 

"  Don't  laugh,  young  man,  don't  laugh  ;  respect  my  supe 
rior  years  and  experience,  and  respect  my  sacred  office.  It  is 
my  duty  to  warn  you  in  season  and  out  of  season,  line  upon 
line,  precept  upon  precept,  here  a  little  and  there  a  little." 


262  NEVER   AGAIN. 

"Look  here  now,"  shouted  Mr.  Whoppers,  at  the  top  of 
his  voice.  "  Stop  all  this  caterwauling,  and  answer  one  ques 
lion.  I  want  to  know  if  you  have  anything  to  say  against  the 
character  of  Mrs.  Stichen  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  firmly  replied  Mrs.  Lasher. 

"  And  what  is  it  ? "  demanded  Mr.  Whoppers. 

"Well,  she's  a,  a—" 

"  She's  a  what  ?  " 

"  She's  a  worldly  woman.     There  now  !  " 

"  Is  that  all  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Doctor,  do  you  hear  that  ?  Is  that  all  ?  all  indeed  ! 
I  tell  you  that  she  is  a  downright  worldly  woman.  All  she 
thinks  about  is  dressing  and  spending  money  at  Madame 
Volorem's  ;  and  driving  about  in  her  new  clarence,  with  glass 
windows  all  around,  so  that  she  can  be  seen  by  everybody  ; 
and  showing  her  baby  face  at  operas,  and  balls,  and  parties, 
and  even  the  church.  I  tell  you  she  is  a  mincing,  simpering, 
affected,  stuck-up  piece.  When  she  boarded  here  I  never 
liked  her,  although  you  all  went  mad  about  her  singing ;  and 
since  that  little  rascal,  her  husband,  has  made  so  much  money, 
I  don't  want  to  know  her,  and  whenever  I  meet  her,  I  cut  her 
dead.  The  Doctor,  here,  knows  how  worldly  she  is." 

"  Indeed  I  do,"  replied  the  Doctor.  "  I  have  tried  her — 
I  have  tried  her  in  the  balance,  and  found  her  wanting.  I'll 
give  you  an  instance.  I  went  to  her  and  told  her  that  a  large 
tribe  of  the  Wanabangos,  residing  in  the  Jebbledoon  moun 
tains,  were  living  a  life  of  cannibalism,  and  downright  nudity, 
and  utterly  without  the  benefits  of  stated  preaching,  or  any 
kind  of  Sabbath-day  instruction.  It  made  not  the  lightest 
impression  upon  her ;  she  said  that  she  had  already  contrib 
uted,  all  she  could  afford,  to  the  domestic  missions,  but  if 
there  were  any  of  the  Wanabango  tribe  round  Cherry  or 
Greenwich  streets,  or  down  in  the  Five  Points,  or  Mackerel- 
ville,  she  would  be  willing  to  strain  a  point  and  give  some 
thing  more.  What  could  I  say  to  that  ?  I  saw  that  she  com 
pletely  misunderstood  the  whole  object  and  design  of  that 
particular  kind  of  missionary  work  in  which  I  am  engaged.  I 


NEVER  AGAIN.  263 

thought  I  would  try  her  with  something  else,  and  I  said, '  My  dear 
Mrs.  Stichen,  I  have  in  hand  another  most  important  work — 
one  that  recommends  itself  to  the  loving  consideration  of 
every  pious  and  affluent  Protestant.  We  have  a  beautiful 
little  church  at  Skinnersdale,  in  Nevada — tower  truncated  as 
yet ;  but  real  stone  mullions.  Well,  owing  to  the  unaccount 
able  bursting  of  a  whiskey-still,  and  to  the  lamentable  occur 
rence  of  three  or  four  street  fights,  the  congregation  has  been 
reduced  to  less  than  half-a-dozen  members,  and  no  one  of 
these  has  anything  to  give  or  would  give  it  if  he  had.  Now 
this  little  Protestant  temple  is  soon  to  be  sold,  under  fore 
closure  of  mortgage,  unless  we  who  feel  an  interest  in  the 
cause  come  forward  with  the  necessary  funds.  And  if  it  is 
sold — think  of  it !  think  of  the  awful  fact ;  it  will  inevitably 
fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Romanists  !  There  are  numbers  of 
them — some  wealthy,  and  all  bigoted — and  they  are  deter 
mined  to  buy  it,  and  carry  up  that  unfinished  steeple,  and 
crown  it  with  a  large  gilt  cross.  Think  of  it,  Mrs.  Stichen,' 
said  I,  '  think  that  the  small  sum  of  five  thousand  dollars  will 
save  that  church,'  and  I  made  my  appeal  in  my  most  touching 
tone  and  manner.  But  would  you  believe  it?  it  had  no  effect ; 
would  you  believe  it  ?  that  woman  let  me  go  out  of  that  house 
— that  splendid  house,  filled  with  the  latest  and  most  resplen 
dent  vanities  of  household  adornment,  with  all  that  delighteth 
the  eye,  and  administereth  to  the  comfort  of  the  body — would 
you  believe  it?  I  say;  she  let  me  go  out  from  that  gilded 
saloon  ;  out  from  that  frescoed  and  tessellated  hall,  down 
those  massive  and  richly  ornamented  freestone  steps,  into 
the  street,  without  a  dollar;  yea,  without  even  a  piece  of  frac 
tional  currency  to  the  value  of  ten  cents.  A  menial  in  a 
white  neck-cloth,  and  a  much  better  coat  than  my  own,  closed 
the  carved  oaken  door  behind  me.  '  Avaunt  thee,  Satan,'  I 
ejaculated,  for  I  felt  the  tempter  urging  me  to  a  little  honest 
indignation,  but  I  would  not  give  way  to  him." 

"  Well,  at  least,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers,  who  had  now 
recovered  his  good-humor,  "  she  offered  you  cake  and  wine,  or 
something  of  that  sort?  " 


264  NEVER  AGAIN. 

The  Doctor  shook  his  head.  "  Nothing  of  the  kind,  and  I 
almost  ready  to  drop  from  exhaustion." 

"Wrong,  certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Whoppers;  "if  you  weie 
ready  to  drop  from  exhaustion,  she  ought  to  have  been  ready 
to  drop  from  a  bottle  or  decanter,  or  something  of  that  sort. 
I  begin  to  think  that  she  is  a  very  worldly  woman.  She  under 
stands  more  of  the  world  than  I  thought  she  did,  but  I  am 
glad  that  there  is  nothing  really  affecting  her  moral  char 
acter." 

"I  don't  know  that — I  don't  know  that,"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Lasher,  in  her  deep  tragedy  voice,  and  shaking  her  head  vi 
ciously. 

"Ah,  you  mean  that  looking  at  the  nudities  of  the  Wana- 
bangos  is  a  sin,  a  moral  delinquency." 

''No,  I  don't;  I  mean  that  riding  and  driving  with  such  an 
impudent-looking  fellow  as  that  Boggs  is  suspicious,  yes,  very 
suspicious,  and  the  Doctor  here  will  tell  you  that  no  woman 
should  do  anything  suspicious." 

"That  is  true,  sir.  Suspicion,  sir,  for  a  woman,  is  bad,  sir, 
very  bad.  She  should  be  always  like  Caesar's  wile,  you  know, 
who  hadn't  any  suspicion." 

"  But  mere  suspicion  don't  amount  to  much.  It  may  be 
entirely  groundless,"  said  Mr.  Whoppers. 

"  I  don't  care  if  it  is  groundless,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lasher. 
"She  can't  be  a  virtuous  woman  who  allows  herself  to  be 
suspected.  But  1  know  how  it  is  with  you  men.  You,  all  of 
you,  take  up  the  cause  of  a  good-looking  woman  ;  not  that  she 
has  any  looks  to  boast  of,  but  almost  any  woman  can  wind 
any  of  you  right  round  her  finger." 

"  She  must  begin  by  winding  her  arms  around  us,  Mrs. 
Lasher.  But  where  is  your  woman's  rights  question.  I 
thought  that  men  were  such  horrible  monsters  and  tyrants." 

"  So  they  are  to  the  good  and  the  virtuous.  It  is  the  vile 
women,  the  silly  women,  the  ungodly  women  at  whose  feet  you 
men  bow  down  and  humble  yourselves,  and  encourage  them  to 
flaunt  their  worldliness  in  the  faces  of  the  nobler  portion  of 
their  sex.  But  as  to  Mrs.  Stichen,  it  isn't  alone  her  character 


NEVER  AGAIN.  265 

for  morality  or  for  virtue  that  1  object  to,"  continued  Mrs. 
Lasher.  "  It  is  her  mental  character.  It  is  her  intellectual 
character.  She  has  no  belief  in  anything.  She  scouts  the 
plainest  evidence.  She  is  an  infidel,  and  that  in  a  woman  is 
awful.  It  may  do  for  you  men.  I  know  you  are  one,  too, 
Mr.  Whoppers." 

"  That  is,"  said  Mr.  Whoppers,  "  she  does  not  believe  in 
your  friend,  Dr.  Quachenhummer." 

"  She  doesn't  believe  in  homoeopathy  at  all ;  nor  in  hydro 
pathy  ;  nor  in  isopathy  ;  nor  in  electropathy.  She  says  that 
she  don't  believe  that  women,  and  clergymen,  and  poets,  and 
editors,  however  clever,  who  have  not  a  scientific  hair  in  their 
heads,  are  good  authorities  on  medical  subjects.  But  what 
will  you  do  when  you  come  to  be  on  your  death-bed  ?  said  I. 
'  Well,  I  will  make  my  exit  secundum  artem]  said  she.  I 
never  heard  anything  more  horrible.  Besides,  she  don't  be 
lieve  in  the  woman's  rights  movement.  She  don't  believe  in 
the  elevation  of  woman.  She  says  she  doesn't  care  to  elevate 
herself;  all  she  wants  is  to  elevate  Stichen." 

"That  is  wrong  ;  decidedly  wrong,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Whop 
pers.  "  Stichen  don't  want  any  one  to  elevate  him,  he  can 
elevate  himself.  I  recollect  one  night  Stichen  gave  some  of 
us  a  little  supper  at  Delmonico's,  and  he  elevated  himself 
about  as  high  as  the  table,  and  kicked  all  the  bottles  off." 

The  peculiarity  of  Mrs.  Lasher's  conversation  was  that 
once  having  turned  on  the  tap  of  talk,  it  continued  to  flow  in 
spite  of  any  interruption.  Once  under  way,  even  Doctor 
Droney  could  only  now  and  then  get  his  pipe  in. 

"  And  more  than  all,"  continued  Mrs.  Lasher,  "  she  don't 
believ£  in  spirits.  Neither  do  you,  Mr.  Whoppers,  but  it  is 
because  of  your  ignorance  and  indifference  in  all  supermun 
dane  affairs  ;  and  I  make  allowance  for  you ;  you  are  a  man, 
and  one  of  that  class  of  men  whose  coarse  sensual  natures 
must  ever  weigh  them  down  to  the  things  of  this  world  ;  but 
Mrs.  Stichen  has  no  excuse  ;  she  cannot  plead  ignorance.  I 
have  tried  to  enlighten  her.  I  have  taken  her  to  three  or 
four  of  our  most  interesting  sittings,  when  the  manifestations 


266  NEVER  AGAIN. 

have  been  most  exti  aordinary ;  she  even  had  evidences  of  the 
spirits  in  her  own  person.  We  were  all  sitting  one  evening 
round  the  mediumistic  board  when  it  began  to  jump  up  and 
down  in  a  terrible  manner,  and  Mrs.  Stichen  felt  something 
tread  upon  her  toes.  '  If  it  wasn't  a  spirit,  what  was  it  ? ' 
said  I.  '  I  don't  know,'  said  she,  '  but  I  have  known  a  lady's 
toes  to  be  trod  upon  half-a-dozen  times  at  a  boarding-house 
breakfast-table  in  broad  daylight.'  The  good-for-nothing 
thing  !  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  toes  were  her  own,  and  it 
wasn't  Stichen  who  did  it.  I  know  his  legs  are  too  short. 
But  she  says  to  me,  '  Mrs.  Lasher,  I  will  believe  there  is 
something  in  it  when  I  am  satisfied  on  three  points.  The 
first  is,  why  is  it  that  the  spirits  of  people  who  in  this  world 
were  clever  and  well  educated,  talk  in  the  next  nothing  but 
bosh  and  bad  grammar  ? ' >: 

"  And  your  answer,  Madam  ?  "  exclaimed  Doctor  Droney. 
"  Tell  Mr.  Whoppers  your  answer.  I  think  on  all  except  one 
point  it  was  perfectly  conclusive ;  on  that  my  explanation  is 
unquestionably  nearer  the  truth." 

"  Well,  we  will  not  argue  that  now,  my  dear  Doctor.  I  know 
your  view  is  a  strong  one,  but  I  am  not  going  to  give  in.  I 
said  to  Mrs.  Stichen,  '  You  are  mistaken  about  the  bad  gram 
mar.  Grammar  is  an  entirely  arbitrary  and  conventional  mat 
ter  ;  and  more  than  that,  it  is  a  capricious  matter.  What  is 
grammar  to-day  is  not  grammar  to-morrow.  Language  is 
continually  changing  ;  old  grammatical  forms  are  left  off,  and 
new  ones  adopted.  Besides,  see  how  the  authorities  of  to-day 
differ  among  themselves.  Mr.  Moon,  Dean  Alford,  and  Grant 
White  !  see  how  they  fight  and  squabble  about  words.  No 
sooner  does  one  of  them  write  a  book,  trying  to  settle' what  is 
and  what  is  not  correct  in  our  English  speech,  than  the  others 
pitch  into  him  and  tear  him  all  to  pieces.  More  than  this,  it 
is  always  assumed  that  we  speak  English,  and  therefore  ought 
to  be  governed  by  the  rules  of  English  grammar.  Now  I 
contend  that  we  do  not  speak  English.  We  speak  the  great 
American  language.  It  is  a  language  that  resembles  English, 
but  it  is  a  richer  and  more  copious  language  ;  a  more  highly 


NEVER  AGAIN.  267 

developed  language  ;  a  more  expansive  language,  with  a 
greater  capability  of  adaptation  to  the  growing  exigencies  of 
human  nature  ;  a  thoroughly  elastic  and  spring)7  language,  and 
therefore  it  ought  not  to  be  cramped  and  confined  by  the  nar 
row  rules  of  English  Grammar.  Now  if  this  is  true,  why 
should  the  spirits  be  accused  of  speaking  bad  grammar,  when 
they  are  only  speaking  or  writing  the  improved  grammar  of 
the  supernal  sphere — the  grammar  of  the  great  American 
future  ? '  I  had  no  need  to  say  anything  more,  had  I  ? "  de 
manded  Mrs.  Lasher. 

"  Not  a  word,"  replied  Mr.  Whoppers,  "  you  done  your 
level  best,  as  they  say  in  the  supernal  sphere.  I  consider 
that  pint  settled.  But  what  was  the  other  pint,  or  quart — I 
believe  there  were  two  of 'em  ?  " 

"  '  The  next  thing,'  said  Mrs.  Stichen,  '  is  why,  when  any 
really  scientific  man — any  man  accustomed  to  observation  and 
investigation,  appears,  the  spirits  won't  perform,  or  give  but 
very  imperfect  and  unsatisfactory  manifestations  of  themselves.' 
I  know  where  she  got  her  question  from — it  came  from  that 
miserable  allopath  Dr.  Petkaff,  who  is  all  the  time  fluttering 
around  her  and  stuffing  her  stomach  with  pills  and  potions, 
and  her  head  with  fashionable  flummery.  But  I  answered 
her.  Says  I,  '  Congeniality  is  only  an  important  element  of 
mundane  existence  ;  but  it  is  an  essential  element  of  supernal 
life.  Now  congeniality  is  a  compound,  and  if  you  analyze  it 
you  will  find  that  one  of  its  most  important  ingredients  is  a 
coincidence  of  method  and  form  in  spiritualistic  speculations  ; 
an  identity  of  conception  in  the  fundamentals  of  the  trans 
cendental,  or,  in  plainer  words,  a  complete  parallelism  in  our 
respective  receptivities  of  the  abstract  and  the  absolute. 
Without  this  parallelism,  this  coincidence,  there  can  be  no 
congeniality,  and  it  stands  to  reason  that  without  congeniality 
the  spirits  cannot  manifest  themselves  fully.'  Mrs.  Stichen," 
continued  Mrs.  Lasher,  "  couldn't  say  a  word  more  on  that 
point,  but  says  she :  '  Why  do  the  spirits  perform  the  most 
wonderful  tricks  only  in  the  dark  ? '  " 

"  Evil  spirits,  evil  spirits,"  energetically  exclaimed  Doctor 


268  NEVER  AGAIN. 

Droney,  "prefer  darkness,  rather  than  light.     Reason  plain 
as  day." 

"  My  dear  Doctor,"  said  Mrs.  Lasher,  "  I  can  not  admit 
that  at  all." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  interupted  Mr.  Whoppers,  4:  the  Doctor  is 
right,  it  is  the  bad  spirits.  Plenty  of  them  around,  and  they 
have  made 'me  prefei  the  darkness  very  often." 

"  But  Mrs.  Stichen  does  not  believe  in  either  good  spirits 
or  bad  spirits,"  said  Mrs.  Lasher  ;  "  she  does  not  believe  in 
spirits  at  all." 

"  She  does  not  even  believe  in  the  devil,"  ejaculated  the 
Doctor. 

"  The  devil  she  don't,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers.  "  That 
is  too  horrible.  Come,  Luther,  let's  constitute  ourselves  a 
mission  of  two,  and  go  and  convert  her.  Perhaps  if  Stichen 
is  at  home  he  will  let  us  see  what  kind  of  spirits  he  believes 
in.  Good-bye,  Doctor.  Good-bye,  Mrs.  Lasher — don't  lose 
your  spirits  while  we  are  gone ;  you  know  how  to  keep  your 
spirits  up — eh  ? "  and  Mr.  Whoppers  elevated  his  elbow  and 
turned  his  hand  downward,  at  the  same  time  making  a  gurg 
ling  sound  in  his  throat,  and  hurriedly  closing  the  door,  fol 
lowed  by  Luther,  marched  off  without  waiting  to  hear  the 
half  angry,  half  contemptuous  comments  upon  his  vulgarity 
and  insolence. 

"That  is  what  I  call  a  capital  cross  match,"  said  Mr. 
Whoppers,  suddenly  speaking  after  a  silence  of  some  minutes, 
during  which  their  rapid  walking  had  brought  them  by  Waverley 
Place  to  the  foot  of  Fifth  Avenue.  "  A  first-rate  cross  match. 
Style,  form  and  action  almost  identical,  and  everything  alike, 
except  color  and  sex.  It  is  true  she  has  a  little  the  fastest  gait, 
but  he  has  the  most  bottom.  It  is  true  she  arches  her  neck  a 
little  too  much,  and  he  pokes  his  nose  somewhat,  but  a  snaffle, 
with  a  Kimble  Jackson  on  her,  and  a  martingale  on  him, 
would  make  'em  about  even.  And  then,  I  tell  you,  once  in 
hand,  you  just  take  'em  out  on  to  the  highfalutin  course  and 
crack  'em  up  with  a  good  round  paradox  or  half-a-dozen  tin 
gling  puns.  If  you  don't  see  the  mud  fly  tell  me  I  don't  know 
the  uliginous  when  I  see  it." 


NEVER   AGAIN.  269 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  exclaimed  Luther ;  "  what  team  ? 
when  ?  where  ?  Or  have  you  mounted  a  metaphor  ?  Do  you 
know,  Mr.  Whoppers,  you  are  a  devil  of  a  fellow  for  a  meta 
phor  !  Once  up  and  astride,  you  carry  your  meaning — that  is 
when  you  have  any  such  load,  for  I  must  admit  you  generally 
ride  light  enough, — you  carry  your  meaning  so  fast  and  so  far 
that  to  follow  it  is  impossible.  You  are  as  incomprehensible 
as—" 

"  Mrs.  Lasher  or  Dr.  Droney.  Exactly,  that  is  the  team  I 
mean.  But  here  we  are  at  the  house,"  and  Mr.  Whoppers 
ran  up  the  steps  and  pulled  the  bell.  "  I  hope  she  is  at  home," 
he  continued,  "  and  Stichen  too.  I  want  to  see  how  the  droll 
little  fellow  looks  and  acts  in  his  magnificent  house.  I'll 
have  some  fun  with  him,  you'll  see.  I'll  make  him  split  him 
self  with  laughing,  and  I'll  chaff  him  till  he  thinks  himself  in  a 
bran-bin." 

A  solemn  man  in  black  cloth  and  white  necktie  opened 
the  door,  and  in  answer  to  their  inquiries  ushered  them  with 
a  grand  bow  into  the  first  drawing-room. 

"  Do  you  know,  Luther,  that  I  begin  to  feel  quite  flustered. 
I  didn't  dream  that  I  was  going  to  have  the  door  opened  by 
an  assistant  rector  of  Trinity  parish." 

"  Oh,  stop  your  nonsense,"  exclaimed  Luther,  "  I  want  to 
look  at  these  pictures.  What  a  lovely  little  landscape  !  Ah 
that  brook  with  the  cattle  drinking — there  is  no  make-believe 
about  that.  That's  running  water,  and  the  cattle  are  down 
right  thirsty ;  and  that  rustic  bridge — why,  I've  driven  the 
cows  across  many  a  time,  and  many  a  time  I've  dangled  a 
worm  with  a  pin-hook  over  that  broken  rail.  And  that  cot 
tage  in  the  distance  with  that  tender  light  glinting  on  it,  and 
that  subdued  general  luminousness  trickling  down  through  the 
fluttering  leaves,  clear  into  the  shade.  Oh,  that  is  charming. 
I  shouldn't  wonder  if  that  is  by  Kensett.  Don't  you  think 
that  is  by  Kensett,  Mr.  Whoppers  ?  " 

"  It's  all  the  same,"  replied  Mr.  Whoppers  ;  "  if  it  isn't 
exactly  'by  Kensett,'  it  is  a  picture  you  admiringly  '  Can  sit' 
by." 


270  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"And  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  exclaimed  Luther,  "if  that 
were  a  Church." 

"  To  be  sure  ;  there  in  the  distance  you  can  see  the 
steeple." 

Luther  made  a  gesture  of  impatience. 

"  Well,  well,  suck  your  fill  of  the  ideal,  I  go  in  for  the 
practical.  Here  is  the  card-basket.  Let  us  see  who  Mrs.  S. 
has  got  on  her  visiting-list;  quite  a  pile,  I  declare.  She  is 
getting  on  in  quantity — how  about  the  quality?  third  or  fourth 
card  from  the  top  is  always  the  biggest  of  the  big  bugs. 
Never  lead  your  best  card  first,  unless  you  have  in  your  hand 
all  the  trumps  in  the  pack.  It  don't  do  to  parade  a  conde 
scension  too  proudly;  let  the  important  fact  leak  out  with  a 
straggling  crumpled  corner  about  the  middle  of  the  pile. 
Good,  here  are  some  of  the  real  old  genuine  bell-bearers  of 
uppertenclom  ;  Mrs.  Theoderic  Boggs — Boggs'  mother — blue 
blood  !  every  drop  of  it,  real  Gothic  ;  Mrs.  Gerardus  Vander- 
hoben,  all  the  way  from  New  Amsterdam  in  a  coach  and  six ; 
and  by  George,  here  is  Mrs.  Douglas  Livingston ;  manes  of  the 
Earl  of  Linlithgow,  I  salute  thee !  and  Mrs.  Leroy,  and  Mrs. 
Mary  Tudor,  and — oh  !  good  gracious  ;  here  is  Mrs.  Stuyvesant 
K.  Delphin.  Ah,  who  would  think  now,  to  see  her  gracefully 
sustaining  her  social  and  official  honors,  that  seven  generations 
ago  there  was  war  between  Peter  the  Testy,  and  the  Jarseys  ? 
And  I  declare  here  is  Mrs.  Thanely.  I  cannot  flatter  her,  be 
cause  the  truth  outruns  my  tongue.  No — 

— '  Lay  on  Macduff: 
And  damn'd  be  he  that  first  cries,  "  Hold,  enough  !  " ' 

And  Mrs.  Montebello  too.  And  here's  Madame  de  Basseville 
— beauty  as  well  as  fashion  ! — and  Mrs.  Ratherwade — wit  and 
grace  combined  !  This  is  charming.  This  is  all  Boggs'  work. 
He  knows  how,  and  what  strings  to  pull.  Tires  la  ficelle,  ma 
femme;  and  up  goes  the  curtain,  and  the  play  begins.  He'll 
make  a  fortune  out  of  or  through  Stichen ;  but  I  am  glad  to 
see  that  he  is  doing  good  fair  honest  work  for  h's  money.  He 
does  not  fob  her  off  with  anything  under  the  "  ultimate  five 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


271 


hundred."     I  wonder  when  he  is  going  to  let  us  give  a  small  and 
select  gabble-gobble.     There  is  enough  here  to  begin  with." 

''  What  the  deuce  do  you  mean  by  a  gabble-gobble  ? "  de 
manded  Luther. 

"  Why,  what  used  to  be  called  a  '  reception,'  where  people 
meet  to  gabble  and  gobble,  and  show  their  dresses,  and  prove 
their  connection  with  certain  circles,  and  exhibit  to  each  other 
their  claims  to  a  certain  position — anything  and  everything, 
rather  than  for  mere  social  and  intellectual  enjoyment. 
Mrs.  Stichen  must  give  one  soon,  if  only  to  exhibit  her  trophies 
and  parade  her  success,  and  if  she  leaves  us  out  I'll  take  the 
direst  revenge  on  Boggs — I  won't  abuse  him  again  in  the  Uni 
verse  for  six  months  at  least.  And  Mrs.  Struggles  came  also  !  " 
continued  Mr.  Whoppers  holding  up  her  card.  "  Well,  that 
is  an  indication  that  Mrs.  Stichen  is  really  getting  on  in  the 
fashionable  world  ;  and  Madame  D'Oberge  !  that  is  a  still  big 
ger  indication.  You  don't  catch  her  wasting  shot  on  vermin 
or  small  game." 

^As  Mr.  Whoppers  threw  down  the  card  Mr.  Stichen  entered 
the  room,  with  a  calm  and  quiet  air — quite  a  contrast  to  his 
former  vivacious  and  lively  manner.  The  early  and  later 
styles  of  Raphael  were  not  more  different.  Look  at  the  St. 
Cecilia  in  the  Bologna  gallery,  or  the  Spozalitzo  at  the  Brera, 
and  you  will  see,  in  conception  and  execution,  marked  evi 
dences  of  the  Peruginesque.  Go  then  to  the  Uffizzi  or  the 
Vatican,  and  there  you  will  see  the  untrammelled,  disenthrall 
ed  genius  of  Raphael  himself.  So  with  Mr.  Stichen.  To 
any  one  who  had  studied  him  in  his  chrysalis  state ;  or  in 
other  words,  in  his  retail  condition,  he  would  have  exhibited 
all  over  the  flibbity-gibbity  touch.  Now  everything  had 
changed  ;  drawing,  coloring,  and  feeling.  He  had  caught  the 
genuine  Midastic  style.  If  he  had  been  nothing  but  whole 
sale  for  ten  years,  he  could  not  have  mingled  his  dabs  of  dig 
nity  and  benignity  more  grandly. 

"  How  are  you  ?  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers — Stichen — he 
was  going  to  say,  but  he  hesitated  involuntarily,  and  said, 
"Mr.  Stichen." 


272 


NEVER  AC  A IX. 


There  was  something  in  the  get-up  of  his  friend  that 
struck  even  the  coarse  perceptions  of  Mr.  Whoppers.  In  the 
first  place  he  was  clearly  two  inches  taller ;  his  head  sat  fur 
ther  back  ;  and  his  sternum  projected  an  inch  and  a  half 
more  than  it  did  when  he  first  measured  himself  for  shirts — • 
anatomical  changes  that  have  always  been  noted  as  the  con 
sequences,  or  at  least  the  concomitants,  of  an  extra  million. 
Besides  this  he  had  on  a  perfectly  plain  linen  bosom  ;  no  em 
broidery,  no  frills  or  fancy  plaits,  and  the  plain  shirt-front  had 
nothing  but  plain  nacre  buttons,  no  jewelled  studs,  no  twenty- 
thousand-dollar  diamond  breastpin,  like  a  blackleg,  a  pick 
pocket,  or  a  New  York  office-holder. 

Mr.  Whoppers  could  see  this  at  a  glance,  and  even  he — 
the  generally  irrepressible — wilted,  and  said  "  Mr.  Stichen." 

"  I  am  very  happy  to  see  you,"  said  that  gentleman. 
"  Mrs.  Stichen  will  also  be  happy  to  see  you  if  you  will  have 
the  goodness  to  walk  into  the  dining-room.  We  keep  an 
open  fire-place  with  a  wood  fire  in  the  dining-room,  and  we 
find  it  so  much  more  agreeable, than  these  miserable  coal- 
fires,  or  than  that  horrible  furnace  heat,  that  we  make  that 
room  our  sitting-room  when  we  are  alone  ;  and  there  is  no 
one  with  us  now  but  Mr.  Boggs.  Ah.  Mr.  Lansdale,  I  am 
glad  to  see  you  too.  The  pictures  ?  Ah,  yes  !  The  pictures  are 
I  believe  very  fine.  Painting  is  a  subject  about  which  I  know 
nothing;  literally  nothing.  I  depend  altogether  on  my  wife's 
taste  and  judgment,  assisted  by  Mr.  Boggs.  I  could  have  got 
copies  and  chromos  that  would  have  suited  me  just  as  well, 
but  my  wife  objected,  and  I  said,  '  Do  as  you  please,  my 
dear,'  and  the  consequence  is  I  am  getting  the  reputation 
of  a  great  patron  of  art,  without  an  idea  of  a  good  picture  be 
yond  the  frame." 

This  dignified  humility,  this  confiding  frankness,  seemed 
to  tickle  Mr.  Whoppers  very  much. 

He  laughed  heartily.  He  recalled  to  mind  the  time,  only 
a  few  months  past,  when  Mr.  Stichen  used  to  attend  the 
Academy  exhibitions,  and  discuss  the  respective  merits  of  the 
various  pictures  with  vivacity.  He  recollected  when  Mr. 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


273 


Stichen  used  to  haunt  picture-sales ;  at  first  buying  the  most 
astonishing  green  and  yellow  landscapes  ;  then  getting  rid  of 
them,  as  his  taste  improved,  and  at  last  resolutely  working  his 
way  up  through  copies  of  the  old  masters  and  wonderful  genre 
subjects  with  some  vulgar  or  commonplace  sentiment  sticking 
out  as  stiff  and  strong  as  a  crow-bar,  and  through  grand  his 
torical  pieces,  of  the  coal-ashes  and  brick-dust  school,  in 
which  the  drawing  and  composition  might  justly  be  said  to 
rival  the  color. 

Q 

"  Look  here  now,  Stichen,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers,  who 
had  recovered  from  the  first  shock  of  that  gentleman's  shirt- 
bosom,  "  look  here  now,"  slapping  him  familiarly  on  the 
shoulder,  "  you  can't  shove  your  gammon  into  this  cove.  Just 
let  us  know  the  exact  figure  at  which  a  fellow  can  affect  to 
know  nothing  and  care  nothing  about  the  pictures  he  spends 
his  money  on  :  a  million  now  ?  or  say  two  million,  eh  ?  A 
poor  devil  with  five  hundred  thousand  I  suppose  must  know 
all  about  pictures — be  able  to  discuss  composition,  color,  and 
drawing  ;  talk  about  tone,  feeling,  and  chiaroscuro.  How  I 
envy  you,  Stichen — not  for  your  money — but  because  you've 
made  your  pile  and  are  free  from  the  burden  of  knowing  any 
thing  about  art,  or,  what  is  worse,  the  bore  of  pretending  to 
know  anything  about  it." 

Mr.  Stichen  smiled  complacently.  He  had  given  up  gig 
gling  forever.  Who  ever-  knew  a  great  firaacier  and  a  million 
aire  to  giggle  ? 

"Facetious  as  ever,"  he  merely  observed,  with  a  smile,  and 
throwing  open  the  .dining-room  door  introduced  his  two  vis 
itors  into  the  room  where  sat  Mrs.  Stichen  and  Mr.  Boggs. 

The  lady's  greeting  was  sufficiently  cordial.  Two  finger 
tips — hardly  the  least  mite  disturbed  by  former  intimacy  with 
bands  and  button-holes — to  Mr.  Whoppers  :  the  whole  of  her 
soft  plump  little  hand  to  Luther.  Her  style,  naturally  quiet 
and  subdued,  had  been  still  further  adoucified  by  long  contact 
with  the  lively  and  aciculated  manners  of  her  husband. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  in  domestic  physics  hitherto  unnoted  b) 
scientific  men  ;  escaping  as  yet  even  the  philosophic  insight  of 
18 


274  NEVER    AGAIN. 

the  Saturday  Review,  that  two  directly  opposite  principles 
prevail  almost  at  the  same  time  with  equal  force.  People 
grow  to  resemble  each  other  :  man  and  wife  in  time  look 
alike,  act  alike,  talk  alike,  and  think  alike — the  effect  of  sym 
pathy  and  the  influence  of  the  mimetic  instincts  !  To  the 
truth  of  this  fact  we  have  the  general  consent  of  mankind. 
It  requires  a  pro  founder  observation  to  trace  in  its  remote 
effects  the  divaricating  influence  of  dissimilar  habits  and  sen 
timents.  . 

For  instance,  how  often  do  we  find  a  man  naturally  neat 
and  orderly  driven  into  the  most  careless,  disorderly,  and  even 
dirty  domestic  habits  by  the  natural  reaction  against  the  over- 
tidiness,  the  rigorous  comfort-destroying  regularity  and  clean 
liness  of  an  energetic,  persevering,  dust-hating  femme  de 
menage.  As  for  instance  in  the  case  of  the  husband  of  the 
Western  widow  who  startled  the  ministering  attendants  at  the 
good  man's  funeral  by  suddenly  exclaiming  as  the  sexton  was 
about  to  screw  down  the  coffin  lid,  a  Hold  on  a  moment, 
and  let  me  dust  George  off ; "  no  doubt  the  dear  defunct  had 
in  his  latter  years  a  real  longing  for  dirt.  No  doubt  the  final 
summons  of  "  dust  to  dust"  had  been  received  with  a  resigna 
tion  born  of  the  hope  of  an  existence  hereafter  where  brooms, 
brushes,  and  dusters  are  unknown.  On  the  other  hand  what 
more  common  than  for  a  '  molly-coddle '  to  change  a  good 
housewife  into  a  novel-reading,  lecture-haunting,  shop-visiting 
"gad-about."  In  this  way  the  long-continued  attrition  of  Mr. 
Stichen's  manner  had  served  to  foster  in  Madame  a  tendency 
to  a  state  of  quiet  mollescence,  which,  as  his  spirits  began  to 
feel  the  pressure  of  wealth,  and  every  crack  and  cranny  of  his 
mind  to  be  as  it  were  caulked  up  with  bank-notes,  began  in 
her  to  develop  itself  into  a  most  lady-like  style — a  style,  as 
Hamilton  Boggs  said,  perfectly  comme  il  faut. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  Distance  from  Bleecker  Street  to  the  Fifth  Avenue  —  Society  Science 
Discussion  —  A  Big  Pool  in  Wall  Street  —  Is  the  Old  Woman  so  rich  ? 
—  Luther  half  confesses  to  Mrs.  Stichen. 


HARMED  to  see  you,  gentlemen.  I  believe  you  know 
*  —  '  Mr.  Boggs?  "  And  that  gentleman  had  the  condescen 
sion  to  half  rise  from  his  low  luxurious  arm-chair  at  the  corner 
of  the  sparkling  fire  and  return  the  salute.  The  exertion,  es 
pecially  as  he  had  a  cup  of  tea  in  his  hands,  was  an  immense  one 
for  Boggs,  but  Mr.  Whoppers  was  an  old  acquaintance,  had 
frequently  been  of  service  to  him,  and  might  be  again,  and  be 
sides  Boggs  liked  him  personally.  Clever  himself,  he  liked  to 
be  with  clever  men  outside  his  own  set  occasionally.  Ultra 
refined  himself,  he  had  no  objection  to  a  little  coarseness  in 
others,  when  seasoned  with  wit  or  humor  :  and  moreover,  he 
was  somewhat  afraid  of  Mr.  Whoppers.  He  knew  that  the 
Editor  of  the  Universe  knew  him  —  knew  all  his  little  affecta 
tions  —  knew  how  much  of  a  humbug  in  some  things  he  really 
was.  In  addition  to  this,  Mr.  Whoppers  held  a  social  position 
so  fully  amplified  somewhere  about  the  middle  slopes  of  fashion 
that  so  long  as  he  did  not  attempt  to  surmount  the  very  peak 
it  was  a  good  deal  more  easy  to  recognize  him  than  to  push  or 
put  him  down. 

Mr.  Boggs  had  seen  but  little  of  Luther  :  only  once  at  the 
Ledgerals  and  two  or  three  times  in  company  with  Mr.  Whop 
pers,  but  he  saw  that  he  was  good-looking,  modest,  nice-man 
nered,  clever,  well-educated,  and  industrious.  Now  there  is 
no  predicting  the  extent  of  greatness  which  a  young  Ameri 
can  with  these  qualities  and  characteristics  may  not  achieve. 
He  may  perhaps  become  a  wholesale  commission-merchant  ; 
he  may  perhaps  become  a  rich  stock-broker,  and  give  grand 
dinners  to  grand  ladies  of  the  beau  monde,  and  charming  petits 


276  NEVER  AGAIN. 

soup'ers  to  charming  women  of  the  demi  monde  at  Delmonico's ; 
or  higher  still,  he  may  become  a  great  banker,  deal  in  foreign 
exchange,  suspend,  resume,  and  oh  !  altitudinous  bliss  ! — oh  ! 
Alpine  peak  of  social  exaltation  !  drive  a  four-horse  drag  over 
the  prostrate  souls  of  a  thousand  parasites  and  flunkies. 

We  wouldn't  say  that  Mr.  Boggs  was  actuated  wholly  by 
this  view  of  the  case.  He  rather  liked  the  young  man,  and 
Boggs'  position  was  so  strong  that  he  could  afford  to  gratify  a 
fancy  now  and  then,  and  be  at  least  moderately  civil  to  a  no 
body,  even  while  feeling  his  own  exclusiveness  and  strictly 
maintaining  the  rights  and  privileges  of  a  purely  fashionable 
"  society-man." 

"  And  first,  I  must  bring  you  to  account,  Mr.  Whoppers, 
for  neglecting  me  so  long,"  said  Mrs.  Stichen.  "  Do  you 
know  we  have  been  in  this  house  almost  a  year,  and  this  is 
your  first  visit  And  you  too,  Mr.  ^ansdale,  I  had  hoped  for 
more  attention  from  you,"  and  the  lady  gave  Luther  a  little 
nod  and  a  smile,  that  went  bubbling  to  his  brain  like  a  glass 
of  Champagne. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Stichen,  you  forget,"  replied  Mr.  Whoppers, 
"  how  far  it  is  from  Bleecker  Street  to  the  Fifth  Avenue." 

"  How  far  do  you  call  it,  Mr.  Whoppers  ? " 

"  About  five  hundred  thousand  miles,  or  as  far  as  to  the 
moon  and  back." 

"  Nonsense,  Mr.  Whoppers  ;  you  are  always  figurative  or 
funny." 

"  No  nonsense  about  it,  my  dear  Mrs.  Stichen  ;  you  sud 
denly  spread  your  wings  and  soar  aloft,  and  a  very  pretty 
flight  you  have  made  of  it.  I  was  looking  into  your  card-bas 
ket  just  now — how  can  you  expect  your  humble  friends  to  fol 
low  you,  when  they  haven't  any  feathers  to  fly  with  ? " 

"Well,  Mr.  Whoppers,  I  am  not  going  to  be  so  silly  as  to 
deny  that  we  have  taken  something  of  a  flight.  All  this," 
and  the  lady  made  a  pretty  little  sweeping  gesture  with  her 
hand,  which  brought  the  diamonds  on  iier  lingers  very  inno 
cently  into  full  play, — "  all  this  is  a  little  beyond  Miss  Jones' 
first  floor  front,  but  if  you  think  that  I  am  going  wholly  to  for- 


NEVER  AGAIN.  277 

get  Miss  Jones'  first  floor  front  and  its  associations,  or  that  I 
am  going  to  cut  old  and  pleasant  friends  because  I  have  made 
some  new  and  fashionable  ones,  you  are  mistaken." 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Stitchen,  don't  suppose  for  an  instant  that 
I  could  think  you  such  a — a — pardon  the  word — such  a  snob 
as  intentionally  to  do  anything  of  the  kind  ;  but  a  change  to 
a  certain  style  of  living  and  a  certain  set  of  acquaintance  ren 
ders  it  a  difficult  matter  on  both  sides  to  keep  up  former 
social  relations." 

"  That  is  just  what  Mr.  Boggs  says ;  but  then  he  agrees 
with  me  that  it  is  bad  style  to  drop  old  friends,  simply  because 
they  can't  keep  pace  with  you  in  your  ascent  into  the  regions 
of  fashionable  life.  Don't  you  think  so,  Mr.  Boggs?" 

Thus  appealed  to,  Mr.  Boggs  raised  his  hand  depre- 
catingly.  "  One  moment,  my  dear  Mrs.  Stichen ;  excuse 
me;"  and  handing  his  cup  to  the  servant,  he  deliberately 
drew  his  handkerchief  from  his  pocket,  and  turning  it  over 
the  point  of  his  fore-finger,  delicately  dabbed  the  edge  of  his 
upper  lip  half-a-dozen  times  so  as  not  to  disturb  a  hair  of  the 
well-waxed  mustache. 

"Permit  me  to  reply  that  I  do  think  so,  but  that  I  also 
agree  with  Mr.  Whoppers.  In  one  just  beginning  to  rise  in 
the  social  scale  nothing  can  be  in  worse  taste  than  an  affecta 
tion  of  ignorance  of  common  people  ;  nothing  more  absurd 
than  to  deny,  upon  all  occasions  former  associations  ;  nothing 
mere  vulgar  than  a  pretence  to  exclusiveness,  and  nothing 
more  unnecessary,  and  even  dangerous,  than  to  drop  abruptly 
old  acquaintances  and  friends.  Don't  you  see  ? — any  airs  or 
affectations,  any  social  brutalities,  at  once  sets  all  the  gossips 
in  society  upon  the  qui  vive,  and  your  cousin  the  hack-driver, 
or  your  uncle  the  soap-fat  man,  is  constantly  trotted  out  for 
the  amusement  of  your  new  friends,  and  the  immense  comfort 
of  your  old  ones.  There  is  Mrs.  Struggles  now — a  case  in 
point.  What  an  awful  time,  notwithstanding  Mrs.  Ledgeral's 
assistance,  she  has  had  of  it.  She  commenced  by  assuming  an 
hereditary  right  to  snub  people,  and  instantly  her  own  work 
in  the  cotton-mill,  and  her  mother's  clear-starching,  she  finds 


278  NEVER   AGAIN. 

chalked  down  in  every  visiting-book  that  she  can  get  her 
name  into." 

"  Still  she  has  worked  herself  in  everywhere,"  exclaimed 
Mr.  Whoppers;  "she  is  a  social  success.'' 

"  Hardly !  'Tis  true  she  goes  everywhere,  and  outsiders 
naturally  suppose  that  she  is — you  will  pardon  the  vulgarism, 
Mrs.  Stichen — top  of  the  heap,  but  they  who  are  adepts  ;  they 
who  have  mastered  the  arcana  of  social  science  ;  they  who 
are  to  the  manner  born,  know  better.  'Tis  the  same  as  it  is  in 
London.  How  many  Americans,  and  Englishmen  too,  for 
that  matter,  believe  that  the  countess  of  Isola  Bella,  or  the 
great  banker  Ahashuerus  Billionah,  are  the  very  largest  and 
purest  globules  of  butyraceous  material  floating  in  the  crime 
de  la  creme.  But  ask  my  mother's  old  friend,  the  dowager 
Duchess  of  Dobbershire,  and  she  will  tell  you  that  fashiona 
ble  notoriety,  there  as  here,  is  not  by  any  means  a  perfect 
measure  of  social  position  ;  and  that  devotees  of  the  ineffable 
Bosh  may  be  bien  r'epandus,  and  apparently  all  powerful,  at 
the  same  time  that  it  is  known  to  the  initiated,  and  known 
even  to  themselves,  that  they  have  not  advanced  a  step 
beyond  the  tolerated  qf  the  outer  porch  ;  and  that  they  havn't 
the  smallest  chance  of  lifting  the  veil — of  penetrating  to  the 
Holy  of  Holies,  or  of  mingling  their  coarse  voices  with  the 
awful,  but  mellifluous,  oracular  utterances  of  the  adytum" 

"  Mr.  Boggs,  may  I  ask  you  to  write  that  down  for  me 
some  time  ? "  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers.  "  I'd  give  five  dollars 
a  column.  I've  always  said  that  I  don't  know  a  fellow  in 
town  who  can  wriggle  himself  more  handsomely  through  a 
thicket  of  commas  and  semicolons,  or  stagger  along  under  a 
load  of  big  words  more  stoutly  than  yourself." 

Mrs.  Stichen  and  Luther  both  started  at  the  very  idea  of 
any  one's  daring  to  chaff  so  august  a  personage  !  Boggs 
didn't  seem  to  mind  it  at  all.  He  made  a  slight  gesture  of 
deprecation.  "  Don't  flatter  me,  Whoppers  ;  you  know  you're 
weak  in  that  line,  and  you  recollect  what  Judge  Simpson  said 
about  you  the  other  day,  in  his  charge  to  the  Grand  Jury  : 
that  he  could  stand  anything  in  the  Universe,  except  flattery.' 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


279 


But,  as  I  was  saying,  and  as  I  advised  Mrs.  Stichen,  nothing 
is  more  dangerous  than  to  drop  old  acquaintances  too 
suddenly." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Boggs,"  exclaimed  Luther  with  a  smile. 

Mr.  Boggs  paused,  and  gave  a  look  at  the  speaker,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "  You  are  sharper  young  man  than  I 
supposed." 

"  You're  right,  Luther,"  said  Mr.  Whoppers,  "  we  are 
deeply  indebted  to  Boggs." 

"  No,  you  needn't  thank  Mr.  Boggs,"  exclaimed  the  lady. 
"  I  defer  in  general  to  Mr.  Boggs'  taste  and  superior  experi 
ence,  but  in  some  things  I  decide  and  judge  for  myself.  I 
have  made  up  my  mind  that  in  no  case  will  I  drop  old  friends 
and  acquaintances  whom  I  like.  But  the  friends  whom  I 
never  did  like,  and  the  acquaintances  whom  I  always  hated 
and  always  was  willing  to  get  rid  of — well,  that  is  different. 
I  don't  know  why  I  should  put  myself  out  to  keep  them  ?" 

"  No  reason  in  the  world,"  said  Mr.  Whoppers.  "  The 
holiest  saint  that  ever  attained  the  entry  of  fashionable  society 
would  let  'em  slide  in  such  cases.  Cut  right  and  left ;  never 
mind  a  little  harshness  towards  sinners  hardened  in  respecta 
bility  ;  and  as  you  say,  whom  you  always  did  hate." 

"  And  as  to  the  others,  your  friends  whom  you  have  really 
loved,"  said  Mr.  Boggs,  "  it  is  not  only  bad  taste,  but  very 
unnecessary ;  it  is  a  foolish  waste  of  energy." 

"  You  mean,  Boggs,  that  a  rising  woman  has  only  to  live 
up  to  the  mark  of  her  high  calling  to  get  rid  of  all  her  social 
detrimentals,  nobodies,  and  dowdies,  and  vulgar  relations. 
She  don't  drop  them  !  Oh  no,  not  a  bit  of  it !  They  drop 
her.  Well  that  brings  us  back,  Mrs.  Stichen,  to  your  ques 
tion  and  my  answer.  Five  hundred  thousand  miles  from 
Bleecker  Street,  if  it  is  a  rod  !  Don't  you  see  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  care  how  far  it  is,  Mr.  Whoppers.  You 
and  Luther  have  found  that  you  can  walk  it  of  an  evening, 
and  I  shall  expect  you  to  do  so  very  often.  I  count  on  you, 
Luther,  at  any  rate.  You  have  all  of  your  evenings  to  your 
self." 


28o  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"  I  shall  be  most  happy,"  replied  Luther.  "  But-  I  would 
not  have  you  think  me  of  such  idle  habits  as  to  have  all  my 
evenings  disengaged." 

"  Ah,  I  see  some  young  lady  in  the  case." 

Luther  laughingly  protested  against  that  view.  Time  was 
too  precious  to  be  wasted  in  that  way. 

"  Ah,  I  forgot  ;  that  fortune  you  came  to  New  York  to 
achieve  must  be  had  first.  And  then — well  I  watched  you  the 
other  night  at  the  Ledgerals,  and  I  should  judge  from  what  I 
did  see,  that  if  there  is  no  young  lady  who  occupies  your  time, 
there  is  one  who  occupies  a  good  deal  of  your  thoughts.  You 
need  not  blush  so,"  continued  Mrs.  Stichen,  in  a  low  voice. 

She  might  have  spoken  in  a  full  tone,  for  the  three  gentle 
men  were  by  this  time  fully  engaged  in  a  discussion  of  the 
latest  news,  which  Mr.  Stichen  had  brought  up  from  the  street, 
and  particularly  the  last  thing  in  Erie. 

"  And  you  really  think  it  would  do  to  sell  five  hundred 
shares  ? "  said  Mr.  Boggs.  "  Here's  Whoppers  too,  he  is  al 
ways  ready  to  turn  an  honest  penny." 

"But  I'm  a  little  afraid,"  replied  Mr.  Whoppers,  "that  if 
there  is  such  a  powerful  party  ready  to  give  it  a  lift,  we  may 
get  caught  selling  short,  and  I  can't  afford  to  lose  much.  I 
am  master  of  the  Universe  it  is  true,  but  my  means  are  not  in 
exhaustible.  I  am  like  another  celebrated  master  of  the  Uni 
verse,  and  willing  to  cry  bonus  est  odor  ex  re  qualibet,  which 
means,  Stichen,  that  I  won't  turn  up  my  nose  at  the  smell  of 
a  bank-note,  no  matter  where  it  comes  from,  but — well  I've 
been  astraddle  of  a  bull's  horns  once  ;  and  once  I  got  a  bear's 
claws  clear  into  my  vitals,  and  I  don't  want  to  be  clawed  or 
gored  again.  I  musn't  do  anything  to  endanger  the  Universe, 
but  if  you  think  there  is  not  too  much  risk  ? " 

"  That's  just  it,  you  see  ;  but  mind  you,  what  I  say  is  to  go 
no  further.  I  am  willing  to  help  you,  Mr.  Boggs,  and  our 
friend  Whoppers  here,  but  I  am  not  going  to  tell  all  I  know 
to  everybody.  You  see  it's  just  like  a  trotting  match ;  you 
don't  know  the  horses,  and  you  know  there  is  going  to  be 
cheating,  so  you  take  your  chance  of  coming  out  on  the  swin- 


NEVER  AGAIN.  281 

dlers  side.  You  find  out  which  horse  the  biggest  rascals  are 
ostensibly  laying  their  bets  on,  and  you  go  your  pile  against 
him  ;  two  to  one  you  see  your  money  back.  Well,  you  must 
know,  they  came  to  me  and  said,  'Stichen,  we  are  going  to 
make  a  big  strong  pool,  and  we  want  you  should  go  in  with 
us  ;  we  count  on  you  for  half  a  million.  We  are  already  ten 
million  strong,  and  we  can  pry  her  up  twenty  per  cent,  at  least. 
The  shorts  are  pretty  deep  already,  and  if  we  work  the  thing 
right,  we  can  take  every  hair  of  their  hides  off.  We'll  make 
pious  Dan  wish  he  was  once  more  feeding  a  lot  of  drovers  at 
the  Bull's  Head.'  And  that  is  just  how  it  stands  at  pres 
ent." 

"And  yet  you  advise  us,  Mr.  Stichen,  to  sell  short." 

"Just  so.  Don't  you  see;  that  crowd  is  composed  of 
some  of  the  most  slippery  fellows  in  the  street.  They  think 
they  can  humbug  me,  and  make  me  think  that  they  want  to 
put  the  stock  up,  and  that  I,  with  others,  will  rush  out  and  pri 
vately  load  up  with  fifty-thousand  shares  or  so,  and  then  they 
will  get  a  rig  on  the  money-market  and  come  in  with  convert 
ible  bonds  and  new  issues,  and  crowd  the  mourners  with  over 
whelming  short  sales,  and  all  that,  and  smash  everything  and 
grind  a  million  or  two  out  of  their  confiding  friends  and  con 
federates.  But  they  don't  catch  me.  I  shall  sell  five  thou 
sand  shares  to-morrow  morning,  and  if  you  choose  I  will  put 
you  down  for  five  hundred,  Mr.  Boggs,  and  you,  Mr.  Whop 
pers.  You  won't  need  any  margins,  you  know,"  as  the  two 
gentlemen  hesitated;  "I'll  take  care  of  that." 

"  Oh,  Stichen,  you  are  too  kind,"  and  both  gentlemen  shook 
him  warmly  by  the  hand. 

"  Oh,  not  at  all.  But  come  now,  Mr.  Whoppers,  I  want 
you  should  taste  a  little  of  March  and  Benson's  1803.  Boggs 
put  me  on  the  scent  of  it.  It  is  the  genuine  rain  water,  not 
another  drop  of  it  left  in  the  city.  I  took  the  four  dozen  at 
forty  dollars  the  bottle.  There  are  a  few  bottles  of  it  in  a 
Brooklyn  cellar,  but  no  money  could  fetch  that,"  and  Mr. 
Stichen  touched  the  bell.  "  And  I  have  a  dozen  of  curious 
sherry,  old  Stuyvesant  wine,  a  present  from  the  king  of  Spain 


282  NEVER    AGAIN. 

to  the  Viceroy  in  '96,  and  captured  and  sold  at  La  Guyra  years 
ago.  You  shall  taste  both.  You,  gentlemen,  are  judges  and 
can  appreciate  the  article,  but  as  for  me  !  I  care  nothing  about 
either. — Can  hardly  tell  sherry  from  Madeira.  Rather  have  a 
glass  of  Muir  or  Bass  any  day.  Got  in  a  cask  of  Bass  the 
other  day  just  for  my  own  drinking.  Oh  !  there  is  no  affecta 
tion  about  me." 

"  That's  just  my  taste,  d  bas  all  affectation,"  exclaimed 
Mr.  Whoppers.  "  It's  horribly  low,  I  suppose  our  friend  Boggs 
thinks,  not  to  care  for  March  and  Benson  of  1803." 

Mr.  Boggs  shook  his  head,  "  No,  I  quite  approve  of  Bass 
under  certain  circumstances." 

"  You  do  ;  adapt  your  liquor  to  your  company.  I  sup 
pose,  you  see,  Stichen,  he  thinks  this  just  the  occasion  for  a 
little  of  the  frothy,  that's  what  ails  him.  Bring  in  your  Bass  ; 
or  perhaps  Brown  stout,  if  you  have  any,  would  better  enable 
us  to  stand  up  under  so  much  condescension." 

The  gentlemen  were  fully  occupied  at  the  side-board,  and 
Mrs.  Stichen  and  Luther  continued  their  conversation. 

"You  need  not  blush  so,"  said  the  lady.  "  I  admire  your 
taste.  I  think  if  I  were  a  young  man  I  should  fall  in  love 
there  myself." 

"Yes,  but  it  would  be  very  ridiculous  for  me  to  do  so." 

"  And  why  would  it  be  ridiculous  in  you  ? — you  don't  hold 
yourself  superior  to  the  universal  weakness,  do  you?" 

"  Not  I,"  exclaimed  Luther  laughing  ;  "  I  expect  to  be  in 
love  a  dozen  times,  but  I  am  not  going  to  try  it  on  when  the 
thing  is  certain  to  be  a  misfit." 

"  Well,  now,  if  your  friend  Whoppers  had  heard  that,  he 
would  say  that  it  is  just  a  miss  fit  that  you  ought  to  try.  Pity 
he  is  so  busy  talking  to  Stichen.  I'd  like  to  show  him  that  I 
can  make  a  pun  sometimes." 

"  Do  you  know,"  continued  Mrs.  Stichen,  "  I  heard  her  ask 
Aunt  Shippen  what  she  thought  of  you ;  and  if  you  had  not 
rather  good  manners  ;  and  if  she  didn't  think  that  you  danced 
pretty  well,  and  made  a  good  partner  for  the  very  young 
girls." 


NEVER  AGAIN.  283 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  her,  I  am  sure,  for  her  good  opin 
ion,  but  I  don't  think  that  I  will  trouble  her  or  the  young 
girls  again." 

"  Now  don't  be  foolish,  Luther.  What  would  you  have 
her  say,  sly  puss  that  she  is  ?  Would  you  have  her  fall  in 
ecstasies  over  your  good  looks,  or  your  charming  manners,  or 
your  fine  dancing,  and  just  have  the  doors  of  the  house  closed 
on  you  forever  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Luther,  somewhat  mollified  by  the  turn  Mrs. 
Stichen  had  given  to  Helen's  remarks.  "  No,  and  yet,  why 
should  not  the  door  be  closed  forever,  first  as  well  as  last. 
Whoppers  is  always  dinning  it  into  me,  that  until  I  can  bridge 
the  golden  gulf,  or  cross  the  silver  sea,  there  is  no  hope. 
And  the  gulf  grows  broader,  and  the  sea  wider  every  day. 
No,  I  never  mean  to  take  a  fancy  to  any  girl,  still  less  try  to 
make  any  girl  take  a  fancy  to  me,  until  I  am  rich." 

"  What  a  heartless  speech !  Luther,  I  am  quite  ashamed 
of  you." 

"  Well,  it  does  seem  heartless,  but  it  isn't.  It  is  not  alone 
myself  that  I  think  of,  it  is  the  girl  herself.  Love  in  a  cottage 
was  all  very  well  in  the  time  of  our  grandmothers,  perhaps, 
but  it  don't  do  nowadays.  No,  the  first,  second,  and  third 
requirement  for  happiness  in  married  life  now  is  money, 
money,  money.  I  know  I  shouldn't  make  a  good  husband 
without  it,  and  I  should  consider  myself  a  reckless  rascal  to 
ask  any  well-brought-up  girl  of  the  period  to  share  an  unfash 
ionable  existence  with  me ;  to  give  up,  to  a  great  extent,  balls, 
and  parties,  and  the  opera,  and  endure  a  life  of  merely  re 
spectable  privation;  and  finally  sink  out  of  sight  of  her  set, 
beneath  the  waves  of  social  contempt.  No,  no,  I'd  tear  my 
heart  out  first !  " 

"  Why,  I  had  no  idea,  Luther,  that  you  were  such  a  despe 
rate  case.  You  are  dead  in  love  with  that  girl." 

"Mrs.  Stichen!" 

"  Oh,  don't  be  afraid,  I'll  keep  your  secret.  You  shall 
come  up  some  day  when  I  am  alone,  and  we'll  have  a  little 
private  talk  about  it.  You  shall  tell  me  all  you  think  and  feel. 


284  NEVER  AGAIN. 

It  will  do  you  good.  We  can't  say  anything  more  just  now  : 
they  have  settled  the  affair  of  Erie,  and  will  be  joining  in  our 
conversation  in  a  moment.  You'll  come?  Alone?" 

Luther  nodded. 

"  Say  next  Friday  evening  ? " 

Luther  hesitated. 

"  Oh,  he  can't  go  anywhere,  or  do  anything  on  Friday 
evening !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers.  "  That's  one  of  the 
evenings  that  he  has  to  devote  to  his  old  woman.  Tell  Mrs. 
Stichen,  Luther,  about  the  old  lady.  It's  quite  an  adventure." 

Both  Mr.  Boggs  and  Mr.  Stichen  expressed  great  interest, 
as  soon  as  they  found  that  the  old  lady  alluded  to  was  named 
Steignitz. 

"I  have  never  seen  her,"  said  Mr.  Stichen,  "but  I  have 
heard  them  speak  of  her  at  the  bank.  I  believe  there  is  no 
doubt  about  her  having  money." 

"  Money  !  "  said  Boggs,  "  why  she  has  piles  of  it.  Very 
few  people  ever  heard  of  her,  and  nobody  knows  much  about 
her  ;  but  it  is  supposed  she  has  millions.  She  collects  all  her 
dividends  and  rents  herself;  has  an  account  in  every  savings 
bank  in  the  city.  She  invests  a  great  deal  through  Jones, 
Brothers  &  Co.  I  was  in  there  yesterday  when  they  accidentally 
learned  that  she  was  doing  the  same  thing  through  half-a-do/en 
other  bankers  and  brokers.  You  see  she  had  just  taken  fifty 
thousand  in  Illinois  Central  bonds,  when  in  rushed  Jerry  Del- 
evan  and  wanted  fifty  thousand  immediately.  It's  for  an  old 
customer,  and  she  is  in  a  hurry,  said  he.  She  !  said  Jones, 
have  you  also  got  a  female  customer  to-day  for  fifty  thousand  ? 
Yes,  and  a  funny  little  old  thing  she  is  too.  You  don't  mean 
it  ?  is  she  French  ?  said  Jones.  French  or  German.  Does 
her  name  happen  to  be  Steignitz  ?  The  very  name  !  And 
so  the  whole  thing  came  out.  Jones  asked  her  why  she  did 
not  give  them  the  order  for  the  whole  hundred  thousand.  If 
you  will  have  the  goodness,  sir,  she  replied,  to  put  your  com 
missions  in  your  pocket,  without  asking  me  any  unnecessary 
questions,  Bon!  if  not,  I  find  some  other  shop.  Think  of 
her  talking  to  Jones  in  that  style.  You  know  Jones:  he  fancies 


NEVER  AGAIN.  285 

himself  high  cockalorum  up  town,  as  well  as  down  ;  and  when 
he  puts  on  his  best  airs,  the  President  of  the  United  States 
might  take  a  lesson  in  manners.  Jerry  Delevan  swears  that 
she  came  from  Mexico  with  the  proceeds  of  a  gold  mine  in 
her  pocket,  and  that  he  really  believes  that  she  can,  any  day, 
buy  and  sell  Astor,  or  Vanderbilt,  or  Stewart,  and  throw  in 
Moses  Taylor,  and  Daniel  Drew  by  way  of  small  change." 

"  That  is  all  nonsense,"  said  Mr.  Stichen,  "  she  is  proba 
bly  rich,  but  then  you  know  what  women's  fortunes  are.  They 
are  like  the  fortunes  of  the  chaps  who  used  to  come  up  from 
the  South,  or  around  from  California  with  a  grand  flourish. 
First  rate  to  brag  on,  provided  nobody  makes  a  call.  Any 
woman  with  a  hundred  thousand  is  invariably  chalked  up  half 
a  million  or  more." 

"  Well,  at  any  rate  our  young  friend  has  done  a  nice  thing 
in  getting  into  the  graces  of  the  old  lady." 

"  No  one  knows  that  better  than  myself,"  said  Luther.  "  I 
have  known  her  but  little  more  than  six  months,  and  I  have 
already  pretty  much  mastered  French,  and  made  good  prog 
ress  in  German." 

"I  hope  she  will  do  better  by  you  than  merely  a  little 
French  and  German." 

"  I  have  no  other  expectations  or  wishes,"  replied  Luther, 
laughing.  "  As  to  her  wealth,  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it. 
She  lives  so  poorly  that  I  was  induced  to  insist  one  day  upon 
paying  a  small  sum  for  my  lessons.  She  utterly  refused  it, 
but  finally  she  said  if  I  could  spare  half  a  dollar,  for  a  few  days, 
as  a  loan,  she  would  be  glad  of  it,  as  paying  the  interest  of  the 
mortgage  on  her  house  had  taken  every  cent  of  the  rent  she 
had  received.  She  has  not  been  able  to  return  it  yet." 

"I  guess  he'll  get  it  back  again,"  said  Mr.  Whoppers. 
"  Don't  you  think  so,  Boggs  ? " 

"Well,  I  wish  I  had  half  a  dollar  as  well  invested  as 
that." 

"  You'll  not  forget  your  promise  to  visit  me  soon  again  ? " 
said  Mrs.  Stichen,  extending  her  hand  to  Luther  as  he  and 
Mr.  Whoppers  rose  to  make  their  parting  salutations.  "  You 


286  NEVER  AGAIN. 

need  not  wait  for  your  companion,  you  know,"  she  whispered. 
"We  can  talk  over  that  matter  better  alone." 

"The  matter  is  hardly  worth  talking  over,  but  I  am 
delighted  to  have  your  permission  to  repeat  my  visit." 

"  Well,  well,  as  you  please.  Good-night  and  pleasant 
dreams,  but  no  walking  in  your  sleep  ;  you  might  lose  your 
self  in  the  labyrinth  of  Washington  Square." 


CHAPTER  XV 

A  Mysterious  Deposit — A  Hideous  Face  at  the  Window — The  Captain's 
Letter — The  Inventor— The  Old  Problem — Freedom  of  the  "Will — 
Inventions  and  Inventors — The  Noiseless  Gun — A  nice  Instrument 
for  a  Modern  Vehmgericht. 

LUTHER'S  correspondence  was  not  large,  in  fact  it  was 
very  seldom  that  he  received  a  letter,  and  he  knew  in  a 
moment  the  familiar  handwriting  of  his  only  regular  corre 
spondent,  Captain  Combings.  He  read  the  letter  twice  over 
with  the  deepest  interest,  put  it  in  his  pocket  and  hurried  to 
Burling  Slip.  That  afternoon  he  managed  to  get  away  a  lit 
tle  earlier  than  usual :  it  was  one  of  the  days  of  the  week  on 
which  the  Merchants'  Clerks'  Savings  Bank  keeps  open  until 
evening. 

Luther  thought  that  he  would  stop  at  the  bank,  make  a 
small  deposit,  and  examine  his  book,  which  he  had  always  been 
in  the  habit  of  leaving  at  the  bank.  There  was  something  in 
the  Captain's  letter  that  made  him  desirous  of  knowing  the  ex 
act  amount  of  his  balance.  He  had  a  pretty  accurate  idea, 
but  there  had  been  some  interest  written  in  since  the  last  de 
posit,  and  he  might  as  well  know  the  exact  figure,  which  was 
really  getting  so  large  that  he  had  better  be  looking  out  for  a 
profitable  permanent  investment. 

The  prompt  and  amiable  teller  received  his  money,  enter 
ed  it,  and  then,  at  Luther's  request,  handed  him  the  bank-book 
for  him  to  examine. 

Luther  glanced  carelessly  through  the  list  of  deposits,  until 
it  alighted  on  something  very  singular  at  the  end ;  he  started, 
winked  his  eyes  violently,  and  looked  again  :  could  he  believe 
his  sight  ?  Yes,  there  it  was,  in  bold,  clear  writing. — A  credit 


2 88  NEVER  AGAIN. 

of  five  hundred  dollars — the  last  deposit,  made  about  three 
weeks  before.  There  must  be  a  mistake !  He  never  had  de 
posited  five  hundred  dollars  ;  and  besides  he  had  not  been 
into  the  bank  for  more  than  a  month. 

He  drew  his  pencil  from  his  pqcket,  and  going  to  a  side 
desk  summed  up  the  whole  list  of  credits.  It  was  some  time 
since  his  book  had  been  balanced,  but  he  knew  to  within  five 
dollars  what  the  amount  ought  to  be.  Seven  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  was  the  extreme  that  by  any  possibility  he  was 
entitled  to. 

The  addition  was  soon  made,  and  came  out  twelve  hun 
dred  and  fifty  ;  to  be  sure  of  his  addition  he  repeated  the  oper 
ation,  and  then  stepping  up  to  the  teller's  desk,  he  called  that 
gentleman's  attention  to  the  bank-book. 

"  How  ?  What  ?  Deposits  uncredited  ?  Impossible  ! 
Just  step  to  the  book-keeper's  desk — he  will  show  you." 

"No,  sir  ;  that  is  not  it.  It  is  a  credit  too  much.  It  ap 
pears  here  that  on  the  4th  instant  I  deposited  five  hundred 
dollars.  On  that  day  I  was  not  in  the  bank  :  I  could  not 
have  made  the  deposit." 

"Sent  it  by  somebody,  perhaps  ?" 

"  No,  sir ;  I  hadn't  it  to  send.  There  must  be  some  mis 
take  about  it." 

"  No  mistake,  sir  ;  impossible  !  we  don't  make  mistakes 
here.  It  was  three  weeks  ago,  and  don't  you  suppose  that  my 
cash-account  would  have  shown  a  mistake  of  that  kind.  Be 
sides,  I  recollect  that  a  deposit  of  that  amount  was  made  to 
your  credit." 

"  By  whom  ? " 

"  Can't  tell  that ;  recollect  the  fact  only — but  perhaps  you 
had  better  walk  into  the  back  room  and  see  our  cashier :  he 
may  tell  you  what  to  do,  but  I  think  you  will  have  to  keep  the 
money.  It  certainly  don't  belong  to  us." 

The  cashier  received  the  young  man  with  his  usual  court- 
esty,  and  listened  with  interest  to  his  statement.  Here  was 
something  new  in  banking  experience  :  a  customer  who  had 
more  money  than  he  wanted — who  was  disposed  to  raise  ob- 


NEVER  AGAIN.  289 

jections  to  a  big  balance,  and  to  cut  down  his  own  credits 
below  the  bank  estimates. 

The  cashier  took  the  book  and  left  his  room  to  consult  the 
book-keeper.  In  a  few  minutes  he  returned. 

"  I  am  afraid  it's  all  right/'  he  said  smiling.  "  The  money 
was  deposited  to  your  credit  on  the  date  assigned." 

"  It  could  not  have  been  by  me.  I  recollect  that  I  thought 
of  coming  here  to  make  a  deposit  that  day,  as  I  had  saved  up 
twenty  dollars,  but,  as  it  was  my  birthday,  I  decided  to  make 
myself  a  present  of  books  and  to  send  a  few  flowers  to  a 
friend." 

"  Well,  perhaps,  as  it  was  your  birthday,  some  friend  had 
decided  to  make  a  present  to  you.  Mr.  teller  thinks  that  the 
money  was  deposited  by  an  elderly  gentleman  with  a  white 
moustache  and  beard,  or  else  by  a  young  man  who  looked 
like  a  lawyer's  clerk.  He  can't  recollect  which." 

Luther  rapidly  ran  over  in  his  mind  the  few  utterly  improb 
able  persons  of  his  acquaintance.  He  could  not  help  blush 
ing,  partly  at  the  utter  absurdity  of  the  idea,  as  his  thought 
fluttered  for  an  instant  above  the  image  of  Helen  Ledgeral. 
What  if,  on  the  very  day  that  he  was  sending  her  anonymous 
verses  and  flowers,  she  was  sending  him  anonymously  a  contri 
bution  towards  that  fortune  he  was  seeking?  It  certainly 
showed  a  disposition  to  lessen  the  distance  between  them.  But 
nonsense !  she  would  have  more  delicacy  ! — how  could  he  do 
her  such  injustice  ?  and  what  a  coarse-minded  brute  he  must  be 
to  think  of  such  a  thing  for  an  instant :  and  besides,  where 
would  she  get  five  hundred  dollars  for  such  a  purpose — as  soon 
suspect  his  impecunious  friend  Mr.  Whoppers. 

"No,"  said  Luther,  "  1  have  no  friend  who  would  or  could 
do  it." 

"Well,  if  it  is  an  enemy,"  replied  the  cashier,  smiling,  "I 
would  advise  you  to  pocket  the  affront.  At  any  rate  we  can 
do  nothing  more  than  take  care  of  the  money  for  you." 

"  It  is  quite  mysterious,"  said  one  of  the  clerks,  as  Luther 
left  the  bank. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  mystery,"  replied  the  paying  teller.  "  The 
»9 


290  NEVER  AGAIN. 

thing  is  as  plain  as  a  counterfeit  green-back.  Don't  you  see 
what  a  good-looking  young  fellow  he  is?  Well,  there  is  a 
woman  around  somewhere,  you  may  be  sure." 

Luther  hurried  home,  and  finding  that  Mr.  Whoppers  was 
in  the  house,  dashed  into  his  room  without  ceremony. 

"  Look  at  that,"  said  Luther,  as  he  flung  his  bank-book  on 
the  table  where  Mr.  Whoppers  sat  writing,  and  then  Luther 
rapidly  told  the  story  of  his  visit  to  the  bank, 

"  And  now  who's  my  friend  ?  " 

"  I  can  tell  you,"  replied  Mr.  Whoppers,  "  it  is  your  old 
Frenchwoman." 

"I  don't  believe  it." 

"  She  is  the  only  friend  you  have  got  who  has  the  ability 
to  do  such  a  thing." 

"  I  don't  believe  it.  I  doubt  both  her  ability  and  her  dis 
position.  You  persist  in  calling  her  rich  ; — how  the  story  got 
around  I  can't  imagine  ;  if  you  knew  her  as  well  as  I  do,  you 
would  see  that  that  idea  is  ridiculous.  But,  supposing  that 
she  had  a  little  money  stowed  away,  why  should  she  give  it  to 
me?" 

"Why?  The  Lord  knows  why.  You  don't  expect  me  to 
tell  you  all  the  pros  and  cons  of  an  elderly  French  female's 
mind  do  you?  I  merely  tell  you  the  fact:  the  money  comes 
from  her  ;  you  can  argue  the  point  for  yourself  if  you  please. 
You've  got  the  data.  I  haven't.  Don't  know  her.  Never 
have  seen  her.  I  suppose  you  can't  ask  her  plump  ? " 

"  Shouldn't  like  to.  But  I'll  see  if  I  can't  bring  her  to  book 
in  a  roundabout  way  to  night." 

At  his  usual  hour  Luther  mounted  the  dark,  rickety  stairs 
of  the  house  in  Wooster  Street,  and  tapped  at  the  door  of 
Madame  Steignitz'  room. 

Madame's  sharp  eyes  fairly  gleamed  with  pleasure  as  she 
unbolted  the  door  and  welcomed  him  in  voluble  French.  For 
some  weeks  now  the  conversation  had  been  wholly  in  French, 
hardly  a  word  in  English.  Under  her  capital  system  of  in 
struction,  Luther  had  acquired  such  a  mastery  of  the  language, 
that  when  running  on  in  the  full  flood  of  personal  gossip,  en- 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


291 


livened  by  funny  anecdotes  and  minute  details  of  personal 
adventure,  Madame  never  felt  the  slightest  temptation  to  eke 
out  her  meaning,  or  assist  Luther's  comprehension  by  a  single 
word  outside  of  her  own  native  tongue.  The  instruction  in 
German  to  which  the  first  hour  of  the  evening  was  always 
devoted,  was  rigorously  filtered  through  French  ;  after  that 
an  hour's — more  frequently  two  hours'  talk. 

Madame  had  grown  much  more  communicative  than  at 
first.  She  seemed  rather  to  like  talking  now  about  herself 
than  not.  She  told  Luther  all  about  her  early  life.  How  she 
had  gone  to  Germany  as  a  bonne  in  attendance  upon  the  chil 
dren  of  a  noble  family.  That  she  had  gone  through  the  de 
grees  of  lady's  maid,  and  governess,  and  had  lived  in  Italy, 
and  in  Spain,  as  maitresse  de  son  propre  menage.  Of  her  hus 
band  she  did  not  seem  disposed  to  say  much.  "  C'etait  un 
homme  dur;  but  he  is  dead — died  at  St.  Louis,  and  left  us 
some  little  money  and  the  house  in  Wooster  Street;  just 
enough  to  keep  us  from  starving."  Luther  could  see  that  her 
thoughts  were  fluttering  around  the  memory  of  some  other  and 
dearer  object  of  her  affections,  but  she  never  gave  them  a  voice 
until  one  evening  when  Luther  unwittingly  provoked,  by  a 
direct  question,  a  scene  which  he  never  wanted  to  see  repeated. 

"You  say  us.""     He  said,  "who  do  you  mean  by  us?" 

Madame  Steignitz  sank  back  in  her  chair  as  if  struck  by  a 

heavy   blow.     "  Oh,  mon    Dieu !  mon    Dieu  ! "  she   moaned, 

"  why  did  you  suffer  it !  why  did  you  afflict  me  so  heavily  ! — 

why  should  I  lose  my  only  one ;  my  joy  !  my  pride  !     Is  there 

jio  mercy  in  heaven  !  " 

Starting  up  from  her  chair,  a  gleam  of  ferocity  in  her  eyes, 
she  began  pacing  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  You  ask  the  meaning  of  us  !  It  means  I  and  my  child, 
my  beautiful  child !  my  brave  boy  !  my  only  one  !  all,  all  I 
had  on  earth  !  swept  away  instantly  !  snatched  from  me  and 
swallowed  up  by  that  dark,  ravenous,  cursed  stream — and  I  not 
to  know  where  in  the  foul  Mississippi  mud  his  bones  lie  bur 
ied  ! " 

She  continued  her  walk,  wringing  her  hands  one  minute, 


292  NEVER    AGAIN. 

and  the  next  throwing  them  abroad  in  t  le  wildest  gesticula 
tion. 

"  I  loved  him  so — better  than  my  life !  yes  better  than 
Heaven.  I  loved  him  so  much  that  God  got  jealous  of  him. 
But  oh  !  he  was  so  beautiful,  so  brave,  so  strong,  and  the 
cursed  river  ravished  even  his  breathless  body  from  me.  Oh, 
mon  Dieu,  mon  Dieu  !  if  I  had  found  his  body  ; — if  I  only 
had  his  little  grave,  that  I  could  lay  my  head  upon  it,  and  kiss 
the  soil,  and  heap  it  with  flowers  ! 

"Yes,"  she  continued,  <;he  looked  like  you.  The  same 
eyes,  the  same  hair  ;  and  he,  too,  if  he  had  been  spared,  would 
have  grown  tall  and  strong." 

She  advanced  to  Luther  and  passed  her  delicate  little  fin 
gers  through  the  masses  of  hair  curling  round  his  brow,  and 
suddenly  clasping  his  head  with  both  hands,  gave  him  two  or 
three  convulsive  kisses  on  the  forehead. 

"Forgive  me!"  she  exclaimed.  "Forgive  a  foolish  old 
woman  for  giving  way  to  her  feelings  sometimes  ;  'tis  not 
often  ;  my  nerves  are  good ;  it  shall  be  the  last  time.  Have 
no  fear  ;  I  will  not  frighten  you  again." 

Since  that  scene  she  had  never  alluded  to  her  child,  and 
Luther  had  been  careful  not  to  say  anything  that  might,  how 
ever  indirectly,  lead  to  the  subject. 

The  hour  devoted  to  German  had  nearly  passed,  and  Lu 
ther  was  marking  the  concluding  passage,  when  happening  to 
raise  his  eyes  to  one  of  the  dormer-windows  he  saw  something 
that  startled  him — a  man's  face  pressed  closely  against  the 
glass,  and  peering  intently  into  the  room.  It  was  but  a 
glimpse,  the  next  instant  it  was  gone.  But  that  glimpse  was 
strong  enough  to  stamp  the  impression  clearly  upon  Luther's 
mind.  There  was  something  familiar  in  the  expression  of  the 
face,  could  it  be  that  he  had  ever  encountered  the  owner 
of  that  hideous  countenance.  The  thick  masses  of  black 
hair  that  bristled  out  from  beneath  a  low  fur  cap,  the  glaring 
eyes,  the  coarse  red  skin,  the  heavy,  close-cut  moustache  and 
beard,  certainly  belonged  to  none  of  his  acquaintance,  and  yet 
it  flashed  upon  him  that  he  had  seen  these  before. 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


293 


Luther  hesitated  for  an  instant  through  sheer  surprise,  and 
then  grasped  Madame  Steignitz  by  the  shoulder. 

"  Quoi!  Qu'avez  vous!"  she  demanded,  quite  startled  in 
turn  by  Luther's  evident  excitement. 

"  Did  you  see  that  ?"  he  demanded. 

"What?  I  saw  nothing." 

"  A  man's  face  looking  in  at  the  window." 

"  No  :  it  can't  be.': 

"  I  saw  it  distinctly,  an  ugly  fellow  in  a  cap.  He  poked 
his  head  around  from  that  side." 

"  Oh,  bah !  your  eyes  deceive  you ;  'twas  nothing  but  a 
flash  of  light  as  you  looked  up  from  your  book.  I  think  you 
read  too  much." 

Luther  shook  his  head  and  rising  crossed  to  the  window 
and  threw  up  the  sash.  There  was  nothing  strange  in  sight. 
Two  feet  below  him  ran  the  gutter,  and  below  that  he  could 
see  down  into  the  grimy  court,  partly  lighted  from  the  back 
room  windows  of  the  thickly-peopled  houses  on  either  side. 
He  jumped  up  and  seated  himself  on  the  window-sill,  and 
holding  on  to  the  sash  bent  backward  until  he  could  take  a 
view  up  along  the  roof  on  either  side.  There  was  nothing 
suspicious  in  sight. 

The  examination  was  not  wholly  satisfactory,  for  the  roofs 
of  the  neighboring  houses  were  continuous,  and  although  not 
half  a  minute  had  elapsed  since  he  had  seen  the  man's  head, 
there  was  a  possibility  that  the  owner  might  have  reached  the 
concealment  of  a  neighboring  dormer-window.  He  had  half 
a  mind,  despite  Madame's  entreaties,  to  get  out  and  search 
the  roofs  of  the  row.  But  the  slates  were  damp  and  slippery, 
and  in  clambering  about  he  might  frighten  honest  people  and 
be  taken  for  a  burglar  himself. 

"Bah!  if  it  is  a  robber,"  exclaimed  Madame,  "what  do 
I  care  ?  He  won't  disturb  me.  I've  got  nothing  for  him.  They 
know  I'm  poor.  Everybody  knows  I've  not  got  so  much  as 
five  cents  in  this  roomj  and  who  would  take  the  trouble  to  rob 
an  old  woman  of  these  rags  and  broken  things  ?  Come  in  and 
shut  the  window.  You  will  catch  nothing  but  a  big  cold." 


294 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


Luther  jumped  down  and  closed  the  window.  There  was 
a  loose  catch,  but  nail-holes  over  the  lower  sash  showed  that 
somebody  in  former  times  had  not  felt  so  secure  against 
intrusion  as  the  present  occupant  Madame  had  no  nails,  so 
Luther  split  up  a  piece  of  kindling-wood,  and  whittled  out  a 
peg  that  would  answer  the  purpose  for  the  moment. 

It  was  some  little  time  before  the  young  man  quite  re 
covered  his  composure.  It  was  difficult  to  get  rid  of  the  im 
pression  that  the  man's  face  had  made  upon  him.  That  it 
was  a  man's  face  he  felt  quite  confident,  and  yet  there  was  a 
possibility  that  it  was  a  product  of  his  own  brain.  Everybody 
had  stories,  too,  of  the  illusions  of  disordered  vision.  There 
was  the  fellow  that  had  the  big  yellow  dog  always  following 
around  after  him  ;  and  there  was  the  chap  that  whenever  he 
went  to  draw  a  bucket  of  water  always  saw  an  Indian  chief 
in  feathers  and  war-paint,  jump  out  of  the  well  and  hide  him 
self  in  the  wood-pile.  Perhaps  he  was  getting  a  little  dys 
peptic — stomach  out  of  order  maybe,  without  his  knowing  it. 
Well,  he  would  not  read  quite  so  late  at  nights,  and  he  would 
not  eat  so  many  buckwheat  cakes  in  the  morning. 

"  Do  you  know,  Madame,"  he  said,  "  I've  had  a  queer 
thing  happen  to  me  to-day,  and  I  admit  that  it  may  have  put 
my  nerves  in  something  of  a  flutter,"  and  Luther  pulled  his 
bank-book  out  of  his  pocket. 

The  old  lady  listened  with  great  interest  to  Luther's  ac 
count  of  his  discovery  at  the  bank  but  uttered  no  expression 
that  allowed  him  an  opportunity  for  a  direct  question.  It  would 
have  been  easy  to  accuse  her  in  a  joking  tone,  but  Luther's 
sense  of  delicacy  forbade  it.  She  was  so  very  poor,  that  is,  sup 
posing  the  stories  about  her  wealth  to  be  fictions,  that  any 
joking  on  such  a  subject  might  look  like  ridicule.  The  near 
est  approach  that  he  allowed  himself  was  a  reply  to  her  won 
dering  question — Who  could  it  be  ? 

"  I  can't  imagine  ;  I  have  turned  over  in  my  mind  the  idea 
of  everybody  whom  I  know,  without  being  able  to  hit  upon  a 
probability ;  I  might  as  well  suppose  it  came  from  you  as  any 
one." 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


295 


Madame  Steignitz  indulged  in  a  hearty,  and,  as  Luther 
thought,  an  unaffected  laugh,  at  the  utter  absurdity  of  such  an 
idea. 

"  Well,  it  is  a  perfect  God-send,  wherever  it  came  from.  It 
brings  my  bank-account  hard  on  to  fifteen  hundred  dollars, 
and  I  have  just  now  an  occasion  for  that  sum." 

"Oh!  you  make  an  investment;  what  you  buy?  some 
stocks  or  bonds  ?  I  know  something  of  that  thing.  My  hus 
band,  oh!  he  buy  and  sell  a  great  many  things  in  St.  Louis." 

"  No,  neither  stocks  nor  bonds  :  I  am  going  to  put  it  into  a 
ship,  or  rather  I  am  going  to  loan  it  to  a  friend  to  put  in  a 
ship." 

"  No,  no,  put  it  in  a  ship  yourself;  that  is  not  so  bad.  I 
had  a  little  money  in  a  ship  myself  once  ;  but  do  not  lend  it. 
Who  it  is  who  wants  to  borrow  your  money  ? " 

"  No  one  wants  to  borrow,  but  I  want  to  lend  ;  and  I  am 
by  no  means  sure  that  the  loan  will  be  accepted.  I  have  re 
ceived  a  letter  to-day  from  my  friend  Captain  Combings, 
whom  you  have  heard  me  speak  about  so  often." 

"  Ah  !  yes,  the  brave  old  sailor — read  me  his  letter." 

Luther  got  up,  went  across  the  room  to  his  overcoat,  took 
the  letter  from  the  pocket  and  returned  to  his  seat,  not  with 
out  casting  a  suspicious  glance  at  the  windows.  It  seemed  as 
if  he  must  see  that  face  still  at  the  pane. 

"  It  will  not  be  long  now,  my  dear  Luther,  a  few  days  at 
most,"  wrote  Captain  Combings,  "  before  I  shall  have  an  op 
portunity  of  giving  you  a  hail.  I  hope  to  find  you  as  willing 
to  back  your  main  topsail  as  I  am.  I  do  long  so  to  see  you 
once  more.  I  want  to  see  for  myself  how  you  carry  your  can 
vas.  I  want  to  overhaul  your  log  a  little.  Although  you 
have  kept  me  pretty  well  informed,  there  are  some  things 
which  I  don't  fully  understand.  That  French  craft  you  have 
fallen  afoul  of !  are  you  sure  she  is  all  sound  ?  No  buts  started 
anywhere,  and  enough  ballast  in  her  hold  ?  " 

"  Oh,  mon  Dieu  ;  mon  Dieu  !  "  interrupted  Madame  ; 
"what  a  language  that  of  the  sea  !  " 

"  And  is  there  no  other  craft  with  finer  lines  and  a  cleaner 


296  NEVER   AGAIN. 

run,  and  a  newer  set  of  sticks,  and  more  top-hamper  that  has 
crossed  your  course  ?  Oh,  fill  away  with  you  now  !  can't  I  see 
with  half  an  eye  how  hard  you  brace  up  on  that  tack  ?  In  all 
your  letters  you  have  never  mentioned  the  Helen  but  twice, 
and  do  you  suppose  an  old  quartermaster  can't  see  when 
the  leach  of  a  sail  is  shivering  in  the  wind  ?  Dyce — dyce — 
No  nigher ;  ease  her  up  a  spoke  or  two  or  you'll  have  every 
thing  aback,  you  son  of  a  gun  ! 

"  But  to  leave  off  sailor  lingo,  my  dear  Luther,  I  am  right 
glad  of  the  prospect  of  meeting  you,  and  I  am  not  sorry  to  bid 
good-bye  to  these  miserable  inland  seas  forever.  The 
weather  on  Ontario  is  as  bad  as  it  is  on  the  North  Atlantic, 
and  you  are  so  cramped  for  sea- room,  that  you  can't  scud  for 
an  hour,  unless  the  wind  blows  up  and  down  the  lake,  without 
chucking  your  spars  into  their  native  forests ;  you  can't  lay  to 
for  half  an  hour  without  wishing  you  were  five  miles  to 
windward  of  Sable  Island  or  Nantucket  Shoals,  and  you  can't 
make  for  a  harbor  without  getting  on  some  miserable  spit  or 
bar. 

"  That  has  just  been  my  case.  I  was  bound  down  the 
lake  to  Ogdensburg :  the  weather  was  thick  and  squally ;  the 
wind  shifting  every  five  minutes,  and  coming  out  in  puffs  that 
played  about  as  big  tunes  with  our  old  rotten  rigging  as  I 
care  to  listen  to.  I  knew  by  midnight  the  air  would  be  full  of 
broomsticks,  and  a  witch  on  every  one  of  'em.  However,  I 
managed  to  get  the  miserable,  worn-out,  ill-found  thing  down 
to  the  mouth  of  the  Oswegatchie,  which  makes  the  harbor  of 
Ogdensburg.  I  had  just  rounded  up,  with  my  sheets  hauled 
aft,  and  was  standing  in  by  the  old  French  trading-house 
point,  when  along  came  a  puff — not  much  to  speak  of  consid 
ering  I  was  only  showing  the  head  of  my  foresail — but  crack 
went  the  mast  short  off  by  the  board,  and  up  went  her  head 
into  the  wind,  and  before  I  could  cut  clear  of  the  spar  she 
gathered  stern-way  and  backed  right  down  upon  the  bar. 
There  we  were  hard  and  fast  in  the  mud. 

"  Well,  I  had  made  up  for  some  time  to  leave  the  old  tub, 
as  my  owners  would  do  nothing  in  the  way  of  repairs.  Every 


NEVER  AGAIN 


297 


sail  patched  until  there  wasn't  an  original  yarn  from  main 
sail  to  flying-gib,  and  when  she  heeled  on  a  wind  the  seams  in 
her  rotten  old  top-sides  would  open  and  almost  sluice  her  ribs 
out.  But  this  is  an  end  of  her.  The  owner  will  make  a  good 
thing  of  it  out  of  the  insurance  company,  and  I  am  a  free 
man.  But  what  to  do  ?  Well,  I  will  come  down  to  the  city, 
and  look  about  for  a  few  days.  I  am  five  or  six  hundred  dol 
lars  ahead — that's  mighty  little  towards  getting  a  command  in 
a  decent  sea-going  craft,  but  perhaps  I  may  get  an  interest  in 
some  old  sloop  on  the  river.  If  not,  why  I  will  take  the  berth 
of  mate,  although  it  is  a  little  hard  for  a  man  who  knows  the 
ropes,  and  who  has  always  cocked  his  hat  on  his  own  quarter 
deck  skipper-wise,  to  come  down  to  bossing  a  ship's  watch  as 
first  or  second  officer. 

"  Expect  me  then  about  Wednesday  next.  When  I  hope  I 
shall  have  a  better  opportunity  of  telling  you  how  much  delight 
your  success  in  business  matters,  your  improvement,  bodily  and 
mental,  and  your  good  steady  habits,  have  given  to  the  heart 
of  the  old  sailor,  your  friend." 

Luther  finished  the  letter,  and  Madame  Steignitz  sat  for 
some  time  silent,  with  her  elbows  on  her  knee,  and  her  chin 
in  her  hand. 

"  That  Captain,  I  think,  is  a  good  man,"  she  said  at  length. 

"  Good ! "  said  Luther.  "  Why  he  is  the  best  of  men.  He 
is  perfectly  lovely;  a  regular  angel,"  and  Luther  launched  out 
on  a  current  of  magniloquent  talk  in  praise  of  the  Captain's 
manifold  merits  and  virtues.  Any  one  listening  to  him  would 
have  got  the  idea  that  the  Captain  was  also  a  handsome  man. 
On  which  point  however,  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  Lu 
ther's  enthusiasm  carried  him  a  little  too  far. 

"  And  you  are  going  to  lend  your  money  to  him  ? "  de 
manded  Madame  Steignitz. 

"  Well,  you  see  it  is  almost  impossible  for  a  man  who  has 
not  been  to  sea  for  some  time,  and  who  has  no  personal 
friends  among  ship-owners,  to  get  a  command,  unless  he  has 
money  enough  to  make  him  part  owner.  Now  the  Captain 
has  got  five  hundred  dollars,  and  I  have  got  fifteen  hundred ; 


298  NEVER  AGAIN, 

that  makes  two  thousand.  That  is  not  much,  but  it  will  buy  a 
share  in  an  old  brig  that  I  know  of.  She  belongs  to  our  firm  : 
the  captain  now  in  command  wants  to  sell  out  his  share,  and 
quit  the  sea.  Captain  Combings  can  step  into  his  shoes.  It 
is  not  a  very  splendid  thing.  The  brig  is  old  and  a  perfect 
tub,  they  say,  but  she  has  been  running,  pretty  regularly,  for 
sugar  and  molasses  for  the  last  twenty  years.  Such  a  good 
man  and  such  a  splendid  seaman  as  the  Captain  ought  to 
have  a  first-rate  ship,  and  something  better  to  do  than  carry 
ing  cargoes  of  cockroaches  between  here  and  Matanzas." 

"Do  you  know  of  any  such  ship?"  asked  Madame. 

"  Why  I  know  of  half  a  dozen.  There  is  the  Spoondrift — a 
splendid  ship  ;  half  clipper ;  twelve  hundred  tons  ;  her  own 
ers  have  put  her  up  for  Australia,  and  she  is  half  full  of  lumber 
and  Yankee  notions.  There  is  a  quarter  of  her  to  be  bought, 
but  it  would  take  ten  thousand  dollars." 

"  You  think  it  is  cheap '?  " 

"  Very  cheap  ;  she  is  worth  every  cent  of  sixty  thousand ; 
but  then  we  can't  think  of  that." 

"  I  don't  know ;  I  don't  know.  Let  me  think  !  I  am  a 
very  poor  woman.  I  have  nothing  but  this  house  with  the 
mortgage,  but  you  see  it  is  a  good  house  ;  not  so  far  from 
Broadway.  I  think  they  will  let  me  have  some  more  money 
upon  it.  Perhaps  something  can  be  done  for  your  brave 
friend.  You  have  fifteen  hundred  :  the  Captain  has  five  hun 
dred.  Now  if  I  raise  eight  thousand  on  this  house,  that  will 
make  the  ten  thousand.  We  buy  the  share  for  the  Captain, 
and  then  the  Captain  puts  the  share  in  my  name.  I  be  well 
secured,  eh?  And  I  get  enough  money  from  the  ship  to  pay 
my  interest.  What  you  say,  eh  ? " 

Luther,  at  first,  did  not  know  what  to  say.  How  could  he 
allow  the  old  lady  to  take  so  much  trouble  and  perhaps  risk  ? 
But  then  he  could  not  but  be  struck  at  her  shrewdness  in  pro 
posing  to  take  the  whole  of  the  share  in  her  own  name.  "  At 
eight  thousand  it  would  certainly  be  a  safe  and  a  good  thing 
for  her — ten  per  cent,  at  least.  And  perhaps  after  all  they  are 
right,  and  the  old  woman  is  rich,  and  may  have  the  money  on 
hand ! " 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


299 


Luther  hesitated. 

"  Well,  well,  perhaps  nobody  will  let  me  have  the  money 
on  the  mortgage.  We  will  see  ;  we  will  see.  You  find  out 
all  about  the  ship,  and  see  if  you  cannot  get  the  share  /or  nine 
thousand,  or  nine  thousand  five  hundred.  You  know  'tis  very 
bad  property  now." 

As  Luther  took  his  leave,  the  image  of  that  hideous  face 
and  those  glaring  eyes  came  to  his  mind,  and  he  felt  really 
alarmed  at  the  idea  of  the  old  lady's  lonely  and  unprotected 
condition.  Perhaps  there  was  nothing  to  fear  from  a  robber, 
but  what  if  the  roof-hunting  demon  should  turn  out  to  be  an 
escaped  maniac?  It  would,  however,  do  no  good  to  broach 
the  idea  to  Madame.  She  wouldn't  believe  that  he  really 
had  seen  a  man's  head  at  the  window,  and,  after  all,  it  was 
well  not  to  excite  useless  fears.  He  could  do  nothing  better 
than  bid  her  good-night. 

Stepping  across  the  landing,  Luther  tapped  at  the  door  of 
Mr.  Planly.  For  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  looking  in,  after 
his  lessons,  upon  the  old  inventor,  sometimes  for  a  passing 
salutation,  sometimes  for  a  long  hour's  chat. 

Luther  was  of  an  inventive  turn  himself,  and  his  evident 
sympathy  had  lifted  the  forlorn  old  genius  out  of  his  habitual 
shyness  and  reserve.  It  was  a  pleasure  which  hitherto  he 
had  known  nothing  of — this  contact  with  a  young  fresh  and 
active  mind.  To  hear  the  voice  of  commendation  and  en 
couragement  outside  of  himself,  and  apart  from  and  yet  in 
unison  with  the  whisperings  of  his  own  brain ;  to  be  able  to 
pour  out  into  eager  ears  the  tale  of  his  hopes  and  disappoint 
ments,  and  struggles ;  to  unfold  his  plans,  and  display  his 
drawings  and  models  to  an  eye  sparkling  with  interest  and 
capable  of  seizing  almost  instantaneously  the  minutest  me 
chanical  details, — was  a  pleasure  new  and  intense.  He  had 
fought  the  world  at  a  disadvantage  so  long  ;  had  had  so  many 
falls,  had  been  buried  so  deeply  under  heaps  of  gibes  and 
jests ;  had  had  his  heart  so  seamed  and  scarred  by  the  slings 
and  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune  ;  that  he  had  abandoned  all 
hope  of  the  battle ;  almost  all  desire  for  a  successful  rally. 


300  NE  VER  A  GAIN. 

And  now  here  was  a  friendly  cheer  ringing  over  the  waste 
of  dead  and  dying  aspirations;  and  he  felt  his  nerves  tingle, 
and  his  heart  jump,  and  his  cold  blood  warm  again,  as  he 
listened  to  the  joyful  sound. 

"  How  is  it,"  demanded  Luther,  "  that  you  have  pushed  so 
few  of  your  inventions  into  practical  use,  and  how  is  that 
those  that  have  been  adapted  have  brought  you  so  little 
money  ? " 

"  There  are  two  reasons,"  replied  Mr.  Planly.  "  One  is 
the  want  of  business  talent;  an  extreme  distaste  for  anything 
in  the  way  of  chaffering  and  bargaining,  and  an  utter  inca 
pacity  to  resist  a  rebuff  or  to  fight  my  way  against  anything 
that  touches  my  pride — morbid  pride  if  you  will.  Oh,  1  have 
analyzed  myself;  I  know  just  how  weak  I  am,  when  I  really 
look  into  myself.  Generally  I  call  it  pride,  and  am  rather 
proud  of  it ;  generally  I  humbug  myself,  as  people  of  my 
stamp  often  do,  with  notions  of  personal  dignity  and  self-re 
spect  ;  but  really  at  times — and  this  is  one  of  them,  and  I  am 
going  to  make  a  confession — at  times,  I  say,  I  see  myself  as  I 
really  am — vain,  weak,  silly,  with  a  sickly  sensitiveness  that 
would  disgrace  a  chlorotic  girl." 

"Oh,"  said  Luther  deprecatingly,  "your  mode  of  life  may 
have  a  good  deal  to  do  with  all  such  notions.  You  study  too 
hard,  think  too  much,  and  work  too  steadily  ;  and  then  you 
don't  take  proper  exercise ! " 

"  Or  food  either,  you  might  add.  Well,  well,  I  am  as  I 
am.  I  am  the  product  of  the  circumstances  under  and  into 
which  I  am  born.  I  can't  help  being  myself.  I  have  cast 
off  all  belief  in  free  will  and  moral  responsibility.  Given  a 
form  like  this  and  a  brain  like  this" — touching  his  forehead — 
"large  in  front  and  small  behind — big  reflective  organs  and 
no  sustaining  powers — too  much  of  the  intellectual  and  not 
enough  of  the  animal — give  such  a  being  a  feeble  volition  and 
chuck  him  helpless  into  an  environment  like  mine ;  and,  at 
the  end  of  sixty  years,  what  is  the  product  ?  Why  I — I  am 
the  necessary  and  inevitable  result.  And  who's  to  blame, 
pray  ?  Am  I  ?  am  I  to  blame  because  under  different  circum- 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


301 


stances,  with  a  different  body  and  a  different  temperament, 
and  another  mind  and  heart  and  soul,  I  might  have  been  nc 
longer  I — I  might  have  been  somebody  else?  I  won't  admit  it. 
Suppose  that  any  accident  had  foiled  my  mother's  gesta- 
tory  cares ;  would  I  have  been  held  responsible  for  the  failure 
of  my  antenatal  existence  ?  No  !  And  why  more  for  this 
miserable  abortion  of  threescore  years  ?  No,  I  cannot  admit 
it.  I  cannot  give  up  my  only  consolation  for  a  life  of  suffer 
ing  and  failure — my  only  justification  to  myself — my  only 
ground  for  hope  that  in  the  great  hereafter  the  power  that 
made  me  will,  upon  the  principle  of  compensation,  do  a  little 
better  by  me. 

"  This  is  horrible  doctrine,  I  know,"  continued  Mr.  Planly. 
"  You  don't  hear  anything  like  it  in  the  churches ;  but  it 
won't  do  you  any  harm,  and  it  does  me  good  to  blow  off  a  lit 
tle.  I  would  not  convert  you  to  my  way  of  thinking.  I 
would  not  convert  anybody  to  anything.  If  I  had  Samson's 
strength  and  his  powerful  weapon  in  my  hand,  I  might  feel 
called  upon  to  fight  the  Philistines  a  little.  But  let  the  world 
wag.  What  is  Hecuba  to  me  or  I  to  Hecuba — besides  it  is 

not  meet 

'  That  he  who  guides  amiss  his  petty  barque 
Should  undertake  the  helm  of  social  order.' 

"  And  if  I  should  go  to  the  wheel,  what  guaranty  have  I 
that  I  should  serve  my  trick  out,  or  that  I  should  succeed  in 
steering  the  craft  into  smooth  water. 

"The  fatal  facility  of  change,"  continued  Mr.  Planly  after 
a  short  pause — "  Ah  !  that's  it.  Young  man,  look  at  me,  and 
lake  warning.  The  proverb  of  the  rolling  stone  is  applied 
generally  to  changes  of  external  occupations ;  it  will  apply 
equally  well  to  a  futile  versatility  in  our  mental  operations. 
I  have  always  been  an  inventor.  Nothing  has  seduced  me 
from  or  disgusted  me  with  the  calling  ;  so  far  I  have  been  per 
sistent.  But  within  that  calling  what  a  want  of  persistency 
and  stability — what  an  absence  of  tenacity  of  idea  and  steadi 
ness  of  purpose!  Oh,  I  know  myself;  I  know  myself.  No 
sooner,  after  infinite  labor  and  thought,  do  I  see  an  idea  or 


302  NE  VER  A  GAIN. 

thing  approaching  completion  or  perfection  than  I  become 
disgusted  with  it — can't  bear  it — turn  away  from  it — drop  it 
out  of  my  thought.  Now  is  this  the  result  of  bad  training  and 
evil  mental  habits,  or  is  it  a  radical  and  congenital  defect  in 
the  organization  of  my  brain  ?  " 

Mr.  Planly  paused  and  looked  at  Luther  as  if  expecting  a 
reply. 

"  I  am  not  physiologist  or  psychologist  enough  to  answer 
that,"  said  Luther. 

"  But,"  continued  Mr.  Planly,  "  I  am  getting  too  far  away 
from  your  question,  why  I  haven't  been  able  to  carry  out  any 
of  my  inventions.  Of  course  no  one  knows  better  than  my 
self  that  many  of  them  are  good  for  nothing  practically. 
Many  of  them  are  ingenious  devices  for  doing  what  can  be 
done  more  cheaply  or  more  conveniently  in  other  ways,  or 
what  is  perhaps  not  worth  doing  at  all.  In  some,  I  am  wrong 
in  principle,  or  utterly  mistaken  in  the  adaptation  of  means  to 
ends,  and  have  in  consequence  spent  a  good  deal  of  time  and 
thought  that  a  wiser  or  better  educated  man  might  have 
saved.  Any  inventor  is  liable  to  this,  especially  one  whose 
mind  rambles  over  a  wide  field,  and  who  fondles  in  desultory 
thought  a  thousand  objects  of  devotion,  instead  of  sticking  to 
one.  But  still  I  have  hit  upon  some  things  that  are  good, 
and  that  ought  to  be  tried,  and  upon  many  that  have  been  ap 
propriated,  or  have  since  been  invented,  by  others  and  are 
now  in  use. 

"  And  now,"  resumed  Mr.  Planly  after  a  pause,  "  I  will 
tell  you  the  second,  and  I  hope  the  greatest  reason  for  my 
failure  to  carry  out  into  general  practice  any  of  my  more  im 
portant  inventions,  and  that  is  want  of  money ;  or,  to  put  it  a 
little  more  truly,  hard,  grinding  poverty.  Materials,  models, 
experiments,  skilled  labor,  all  cost  money,  and  sometimes  a 
good  deal  of  money.  But  suppose  that  an  inventor,  by  hair 
starving  himself,  going  half  clad,  and  working  night  and  day, 
with  his  own  hands,  succeeds  in  getting  his  idea  developed 
into  drawings  and  models,  and  even  goes  so  far  unaided  as  to 
secure  his  patents,  how  is  he  to  move  a  step  beyond  ?  How 


NEVER  AGAIN.  303 

is  he  to  make  a  capitalist  distinguish  him  in  his  old  rusty  hat, 
faded  thread-bare  coat,  and  worn-out  shoes,  amid  the  crowd 
of  projectors  and  charlatans  that  beseige  a  rich  man's  door. 
If  he  had  plenty  of  money !  Ah,  then  the  thing  would  be 
easy  enough.  Everybody  has  so  much  more  confidence  in 
the  judgment  and  disinterestedness  of  a  man  with  money. 
He  can  get  along  without  their  help — why  shouldn't  they 
help  him  ?  And  to  a  great  extent  I  believe  they  are  right. 
Money  ballasts  a  man's  intellect  or  rather  it  anchors  him 
down,  and  he  merely  swings  at  his  moorings,  without  entirely 
floating  off  with  every  turn  of  the  tide.  And  then  if  an  inven 
tor  with  money  wants  to  interest  a  capitalist,  why  he  can  at 
tack  the  animal  in  his  den,  armed  cap-a-pie,  in  gleaming  habil 
iments,  from  his  shiny  latest  style  beaver,  down  to  his 
polished  n.  vv  boots  ;  or  he  can  get  him  into  the  club  or  Del- 
monico's ;  gorge  him  with  turtle  and  champagne ;  and  when  his 
pores  are  fairly  open,  force  in  any  idea  that  he  wishes  ;  even 
if  it  is  some  new  modification  of  the  rotatory  system  ;  some 
grand  project  for  an  elevated  railroad,  or  some  wonderfully 
simple  plan  for  a  few  hundred  horse  power  hot-air  engine." 

Mr.  Planly  stopped  for  a  moment  in  his  plaintive  tirade, 
and  Luther  turned  to  some  of  the  models  and  drawings  hang 
ing  upon  the  walls  or  lumbering  up  the  rickety  shelves.  There 
was  a  complicated  affair  for  utilizing  the  enormous  power  of 
the  waves,  and  converting  their  irregular  action  into  an  avail 
able  working  force  by  means  of  a  system  of  gigantic  pumps 
sending  the  water  to  an  elevated  reservoir  inland,  whence  it 
returned  in  a  continuous  fall  to  the  sea. 

"  The  idea  is  not  new,"  said  Mr.  Planly ;  "  but  a  practical 
plan  for  working  it  out  has  not  before  been  suggested." 

There  was  a  design  for  transferring  the  strain  of  the  cables 
of  a  ship  at  anchor  from  the  hawse-holes  to  a  point  or  points 
underneath  the  water  and  nearer  in  a  line  with  the  centre  of 
gravity  of  the  ship. 

"  You  see,"  said  Mr.  Planly,  "  in  the  usual  p'an,  the  action 
of  the  cable  is  in  a  great  part  to  pull  a  ship's  head  down  into 
the  water  and  increase  the  power  of  the  waves.  You  see  here, 


304  NEVER  AGAIN. 

by  means  of  this  traveller  running  on  an  iron  bar,  I  let  down  a 
short  scope  of  heavy  chain  to  a  bolt  or  hook  let  in  on  either 
side  of  the  stem  almost  on  a  level  with  the  keel.  The  other 
end  of  this  chain  has  this  kind  of  stopper.  You  get  your 
cable  out  of  the  hawse-hole,  pass  it  into  this  stopper,  then  let 
your  cable  slide  through  the  stopper  as  far  as  you  wish — then 
let  go  the  short  grip-chain  and  the  stopper  seizes  the  cable 
and  holds  it  tight.  Now  veer  away  a  littlfe  more  cable,  and 
the  strain  is  at  once  transferred  from  the  hawse-hole  to  a 
point  ten  or  fifteen  feet  below  the  water-line,  and  if  you  please 
to  two  points,  as  many  feet  aft  of  the  stem  as  may  be  thought 
proper.  Any  eye  can  see  how  much  more  easily  a  ship  would 
ride.  A  little  calculation  will  show  at  least  thirty-five  or  forty 
per  cent.  gain.  Don't  you  see  ? " 

Luther  did  see  it  very  clearly. 

"  And  when  you  weigh  anchor  you  heave  in  as  usual  until 
your  stopper  comes  up,  cast  it  off,  haul  up  your  traveller  and 
grip-chain  and  take  it  on  board  ;  or  if  you  want  to  veer  away  a 
large  scope  of  chain  suddenly,  as  for  instance  a  ship  sagging 
down  upon  you  in  a  crowded  roadstead,  all  you  have  to  do  is 
to  pull  on  this  small  rope  that  goes  down  to  the  bolt  in  your 
submarine  stopper  and  away  your  cable  runs." 

"  I  wish  my  friend  Captain  Combings  was  here,"  said 
Luther.  "  He'd  like  this,  I  know." 

"  He  might  not  think  much  of  it  here,"  replied  Mr.  Planly  ; 
"  but  if  he  was  riding,  with  his  spars  and  sails  gone,  to  a  heavy 
sea  and  with  sharp  rocks  under  his  lee  I  rather  think  it  would 
suit  him." 

"And  what  may  this  be?"  demanded  Luther,  pointing 
to  a  curious  complication  of  towers  and  long,  low  arched 
buildings. 

"  Oh,  that  is  my  improved  brick-kiln.  You  see  two-thirds 
of  the  expense  of  making  bricks  is  in  burning  them,  and  at 
least  nine-tenths  of  the  fire  used  is  utterly  wasted.  Now,  it  is 
perfectly  astonishing  the  amount  of  ingenuity  that  has  been 
directed  to  the  invention  and  improvement  of  brick  machines, 
but  hardly  a  step  has  been  made  towards  saving  of  waste  of 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


3°5 


fuel  and  the  enormous  loss  from  the  imperfect  burning  of  pale 
brick  and  the  over-burning  of  arch  brick." 

Mr.  Planly  went  on  to  explain  how  he  proposed  to  employ 
the  heat  of  one  kiln  in  partially  cooking  the  bricks  in  a  second 
kiln  and  even  a  third,  and  baking  them  all  to  one  color,  but 
as  the  female  reader  may  be  supposed  to  care  nothing  for 
bricks,  unless  it  may  be  the  perfect  brick  of  a  society-man, 
and  the  male  reader  to  know  nothing  of  the  subject  except  a 
slight  knowledge  of  an  occasional  "  brick  in  the  hat  "  we  will 
turn  with  Luther  to  other  subjects. 

"What  is  that?"  said  Luther. 

"Oh,  that  is  a  magnetic  sounding-lead.  You  see  a  great 
many  ships  are  lost  from  neglect  of  the  lead,  and  captains  fre 
quently  won't  sound,  because  of  the  trouble  or  delay  of  heaving 
to  or  slowing  up.  Now,  with  that,  a  captain  can  sit  in  his  cabin 
and  read  off  at  any  moment,  when  on  soundings,  the  depth  of 
water  below  him  with  perfect  accuracy  without  deadening  his 
way.  The  soundings  on  our  coast  are  so  regular  that  there  is 
no  excuse  for  any  captain  not  knowing  his  distance  from  land 
in  the  thickest  fog." 

"And  what  is  that  combination  of  circles,  or  parts  of 
circles?" 

"  Oh,  that  is  an  attempt  to  make  an  instrument  for  working 
out  mechanically  observations  for  time  at  sea.  You  see  here 
are  two  meridian  circles  connected  by  an  equator,  and  this  is 
a  diagonal  or  zenith-distance  circle.  Now,  you  know  your 
latitude,  and  you  clamp  one  end  of  your  zenith-distance  circle 
to  your  latitude  on  the  meridian.  You  observe  the  altitude 
of  the  sun  above  the  horizon — subtract  that  from  ninety,  and 
you  have  the  zenith  distance  of  the  sun.  Set  this  movable 
pin  on  this  diagonal  circle  at  that  distance — then  separate 
your  mer.  dian  circles  until  this  pin  corresponds  to  the  decli 
nation  of  the  sun  marked  on  the  movable  meridian  circle — 
read  off  the  number  of  degrees,  on  the  equatorial  circle,  that 
the  two  meridian  circles  are  apart,  and  you  have  the  distance 
of  the  sun  from  your  meridian,  or  in  other  words  the  differ 
ence  in  time  from  12  o'clock,  or  the  true  time  where  you  are.'? 


306  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"  And  what  use  would  such  an  instrument  be  ? "  demanded 
Luther. 

"  Not  much,  only  there  are  a  few  captains  so  stupid  or  so 
ignorant  that  they  can't  be  depended  upon  to  work  out  their 
observations  in  the  usual  way ;  or  so  lazy  that  they  won't  take 
the  trouble  to  work  out  more  than  one  observation  at  a  time. 
If  they  had  an  easy  mechanical  means  there  might  be  some 
times  great  errors  avoided." 

"I  recollect,"  said  Luther,  "that  in  our  conversation  the 
other  night  you  promised  to  show  me  your  plans  for  ventila 
ting  rail-cars  and  doing  away  with  the  dust." 

"  Oh,  don't  broach  that  subject  so  late  in  the  evening  if 
you  desire  any  sleep  to  night.  Once  upon  that  I  never  let 
up.  To  do  away  with  noise  and  dust  in  railroad  travelling 
would  perhaps  contribute  more  to  human  health  and  happiness 
and  encourage  travelling  and  increase  dividends  more  than  any 
mechanical  implement  ever  devised.  Luckily  I  have  neither 
model  nor  drawings  here  at  this  moment  and  you  are  saved. 
Some  other  time !  some  other  time  !  "  and  Mr.  Planly  nodded 
his  head  emphatically. 

Let  us  rejoice  in  Luther's  lucky  escape,  as  it  enabled  him 
to  turn  rapidly  in  succession  to  numerous  small  articles  in  this 
museum  of  inventions.  There  were  surgical  instruments  that 
attracted  his  notice — among  them  what  Mr.  Planly  called  a 
painless  knife.  It  consisted  of  a  hollow  stem  with  a  little  cir 
cular  knife  that  could  be  made  to  revolve  several  thousand 
times  a  minute  by  means  of  a  crank  turned  by  an  assistant ;  no 
matter  how  slow  the  stroke  of  the  operator,  the  knife  would 
make  its  cut  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning.  There  was  an 
ingenious  instrument  for  superseding  the  awful  operations  of 
Lithotomy  and  Lithotrity,  enabling  the  surgeon  to  seize  a 
calculus,  enclose  it  in  a  little  silken  bag  and  then  subject  it  to 
the  action  of  strong  acids. 

"  Has  it  ever  been  tried  ?  "  demanded  Luther. 

"  No,  I  have  never  been  able  to  get  exactly  the  right 
kind  of  tissue  for  holding  the  acid,  but  I  am  satisfied  that 
it  can  be  made.  Many  years  ago  I  was  full  of  the  subject, 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


3°7 


but  alas !  the  time  soon  comes  when  the  slightest  obstacle 
knocks  anything  out  of  my  head,  and  I  have  to  turn  to  some 
thing  else." 

"  And  are  these  for  surgical  purposes  also  ?  "  said  Luther, 
picking  up  some  curiously  shaped  india-rubber  articles. 

"  Yes,  those  are  for  treating  wounds  and  sores  of  all  kinds 
KH  different  kinds  of  gas  or  in  perfectly  pure  air.  You 
know  that  a  great  deal  of  the  bad  conduct  of  wounds  and 
ulcers  and  diseases  of  the  skin  comes  from  the  irritation  and 
malignant  action  of  impure  air — air  loaded  with  poisonous 
gases  or  vapors  or  infinitesimal  seeds  of  parasitic  vegetation — 
like  hospital  gangrene  for  instance.  Now,  suppose  you  have  a 
bad  stump  after  an  operation,  you  clap  this  on  to  the  leg,  press 
the  top  down  and  exclude  the  air :  now  raise  it  and  in  rushes 
the  gas  from  a  reservoir  of  carbonic  acid  or  of  the  vapor  of 
some  hydro-carbon  or  of  pure  nitrogen.  You  keep  the  wound 
or  sore  in  this  bath  of  gas  long  enough  to  kill  all  animal  or 
vegetable  life,  and  then  drive  out  the  gas  and  fill  up  from  a 
reservoir  of  filtered  common  air.  In  this  way  all  kinds  of 
action — purifying,  stimulating,  soothing,  deodorizing,  and  dis 
infecting  may  be  had  by  the  local  application  of  therapeutic 
agencies  hitherto  very  much  neglected.  What  will  be  the 
exact  results,  of  course  I  don't  know,  and  I  don't  think  the 
Doctors  know  much  better.  It  will  take  a  long  course  of 
experiment  to  determine. 

"  But  here  is  something  that  I  have  the  greatest  hopes 
from,"  continued  Mr.  Planly,  pulling  out  a  large  drawing  rep 
resenting  something  like  a  large  box  or  small  room  with 
human  figures  in  it.  "This  is  my  plan  for  an  operating-room 
that  will  enable  the  surgeon  to  perform  all  operations,  espe 
cially  those  opening  into  the  important  cavities  of  the  human 
body,  in  an  atmosphere  of  innocuous  gas  or  in  filtered  air — air 
absolutely  pure  and  entirely  free  from  the  germs  of  poisonous 
ferments,  which  are  unquestionably  the  source  of  so  much 
trouble — the  cause  of  so  much  danger  and  death." 

Mr.  Planly  stopped  short :  as  he  was  about  to  launch  out 
into  an  explanation  a  heavy  step  was  heard  on  the  stairs. 


308  NEVER  AC. 4 IX. 

The  inventor  started.  "  Ah  !  I  had  forgotten,"  he  exclaimed, 
"that  I  had  an  appointment." 

Luther  rose  to  go,  but  before  he  could  reach  the  door,  it 
was  opened,  and  a  short,  active  man  strode  into  the  room. 

A  soft  wide-brimmed  felt  hat,  slouched  over  his  eyes,  con 
cealed  the  upper  part  of  his"  face ; — a  heavy  black  beard  and 
moustache  completely  masked  the  lower  part ; — a  heavy  cloak, 
thrown  with  theatrical  effect,  covered  up  his  person.  Luther, 
whose  quick  fancy  had  been  cultivated  in  the  melo-dramatic 
line  by  frequent  attendance  at  the  opera,  and  by  a  course  of 
Byron  and  Bourcicault,  was  struck  with  the  bandit  style  of  the 
gentleman,  and  almost  expected  him  to  begin  in  a  deep  bari 
tone. 

The  bravo,  or  conspirator,  or  whoever  he  might  be, 
advanced  into  the  room  without  stopping  to  close  the  door. 

Luther,  who  had  been  concealed  by  the  open  door,  quietly 
slipped  out  of  the  room  unperceived,  but  not  until  he  had 
heard  the  stranger  say  in  good  English,  but  with  a  foreign 
accent,  and  in  a  voice  that  Luther  recognized  as  having 
heard  before, — "  I  am  here  in  time.  Well,  I  have  found  a 
room  for  you,  and  have  taken  it  for  a  year ; — closed  the  bar 
gain  at  once.  You  can  remove  there  as  soon  as  you  please. 
We'll  get  rid  of  this  French  devil  who  wants  her  rent  so  regu 
larly." 

"  I  am  a  little  sorry  now,  you  have  taken  the  room," 
replied  Mr.  Planly.  "  I  don't  know  that  I  want  to  move  from 
here." 

"You  will  have  to  move — yoa  can't  help  yourself — the 
old  woman  will  turn  you  out,  and  we  want  you  away — out  of 
this — at  once !  We  shall  have  the  sheriff  in,  and  all  our 
things  seized  before  we  know  it ;  and  besides  something  may 
happen  to  the  old  woman,  and  as  you  are  her  nearest  neigh 
bor,  and  known  to  be  in  her  debt,  you  will  be  suspected,  and 
may  get  into  a  good  deal  of  trouble." 

Mr.  Planly's  reply  was  made  in  so  low  a  tone  that  Luther 
couM  not  catch  a  word  of  it.  He  would  have  liked  to  stop 
and  listen.  His  curiosity  was  aroused,  but  not  to  a  sufficient 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


3°9 


degree  to  overmaster  his  self-respect.  By  merely  pausing  at 
the  door  he  could  easily  overhear  the  continuation  of  the 
conversation.  But  no,  he  would  not  do  it.  It  had  been  laid 
down  in  every  novel  that  he  had  ever  read,  that  eavesdrop 
ping  was  ungentlemanly,  and  above  all  things  Luther  wanted 
to  be  able  to  think  himself  a  gentleman.  Of  course  he 
couldn't  stop  his  ears.  He  couldn't  help  hearing  what  he 
had  heard,  and  he  couldn't  help  wanting  to  hear  more — but 
he  could  take  himself  off,  and  not  bother  himself  any  more 
about  what  ought  to  have  no  interest  for  him.  He  was  how 
ever  sensible  of  a  sense  of  mystery.  No  foundation  for  it,  to 
be  sure,  but  still  it  was  creeping  over  him,  and  contrary  to 
his  usual  custom,  he  unconsciously  began  to  slip  noiselessly 
down  the  stairs. 

As  he  opened  the  street  door,  the  back  of  a  man  leaning 
against  the  railing  was  turned  towards  him.  Something  in 
the  figure  seemed  familiar,  and  it  flashed  upon  Luther  that 
this  was  the  same  man  whom  he  had  seen  awaiting  the  bandit 
gentleman  above,  on  a  former  visit  to  Mr.  Planly. 

"  Well,  they  hunt  in  couples,  it  seems,"  muttered  Luther ; 
"  but  what  the  game  is  I  can't  imagine.  It  can't  be  that  they 
are  after  that  ridiculous  toy,  the  noiseless  gun — Planly  calls  it 
a  toy,  but  he  seems  very  much  interested  in  it,  and  goes 
somewhere  out  of  town  often  to  experiment.  And  how 
quickly  he  turned  the  subject  when  I  asked  a  question  about 
it !  What  if  it  shouldn't  be  a  toy  !  It  would  be  a  dangerous 
weapon  in  the  hands  of  some  folks.  By  George,  I  did  not 
think  of  that !  What  would  some  of  the  Reds  in  Europe  give 
for  a  weapon  that  would  kill  at  a  thousand  yards  without 
noise  and  without  smoke." 

In  an  instant  Luther's  active  fancy  whisked  him  over  the 
sea,  and  seated  him  in  some  sombre  subterranean  council- 
chamber  of  a  modern  Vehmgericht.  The  judgment  is  passed; 
some  crowned  assassin  of  liberty  must  die.  Luther  is  ap 
pointed  executioner.  The  noiseless  gun  is  put  into  his  hands. 
In  some  quiet  mansard,  that  has  an  outlook  upon  the  palace, 
he  sits  and  squints  along  his  telescopic  sights  at  the  favorite 


3io 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


window;  a  short,  heavy,  fish-eyed,  squash-skinned  man  makes 
his  appearance  with  his  opera-glass  in  his  hand  ;  Luther  pulls 
trigger — no  noise  !  no  smoke  !  the  simple  ping  of  the  bullet : 
and  the  cut-throat  of  liberty — the  garroter  of  progress, — the 
vampire  sucking  out  the  vitality  of  a  great  nation, — the  big 
gest  humbug  and  impostor  in  Europe  is  dead.  And  Luther 
viciously  jerked  his  night-key  into  the  lock  of  Miss  Jones' 
boarding-house  in  Bleecker  Street. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  Captain  in  town — A  fine  Craft — The  Captain  dresses  for  Dinnei— 
Mrs.  Lasher's  Lecture — Women's  Rights,  etc. — A  Spiritualistic  Di» 
cussion — Marine  Table-turning — Visit  to  Madame  Steignitz — A  Con- 
founded  Lie — Dreams  again. 

"OHIVER  my  timbers !  as  we  sailors  always  say  on  the 
vj  stage,  if  I  am  not  glad  to  hook  fingers  with  you  once 
more.  Why,  Luther,  how  you  have  spread  since  I  left  you. 
I  should  hardly  know  you.  Let  me  see.  Draft  about  the 
same,  but  a  good  deal  more  beam  ;  none  too  much  however — 
just  enough  to  keep  from  rolling  too  deep  in  a  heavy  swell : 
and  your  spars  straight  and  well  stayed,  and  everything  alow 
and  aloft  trim  and  tidy.  Why,  Luther,  I  don't  believe  there's 
anything  that  sails  in  petticoats  that  wouldn't  be  proud  of  you 
for  a  consort.  If  I  were  building  a  clipper  I'd  get  you  to  sit 
for  the  figure  head." 

We  hope  the  reader  recognizes  in  the  speaker  Captain 
Combings,  who  with  his  honest  rubicund  face  fairly  glow 
ing  with  delight,  and  his  hearty  voice  vibrating  with  affection 
ate  feeling,  was  shaking  the  young  man's  hand. 

Luther  was  equally  delighted  to  see  his  old  friend,  and  re 
turned  his  grasp  warmly.  A  short  conversation,  and  it  was 
decided  to  summon  Miss  Jones  and  see  if  she  had  not  a  va 
cant  room  which  would  serve  the  Captain  for  the  few  days 
that  he  expected  to  remain. 

Miss  Jones  had  nearly  finished  her  morning  duties  as  pre 
siding  genius  of  the  tea-urn  and  coffee-pot,  and  responded 
readily  to  the  summons.  If  there  was  anything  in  her  busi 
ness  that  she  really  liked  it  was  giving  audience  to  the  numer 
ous  applicants  for  rooms,  especially  when  the  applicants  were 
gentlemen,  and  above  all  when  the  applications  were  made  in 
the  morning.  Miss  Jones,  thanks  to  a  good  digestion,  an 


312 


NEVER    AGAIN. 


easy  conscience;  and  the  punctual  payment  of  her.butcher's 
and  grocer's  bills,  slept  well  and  she  was  conscious  of  a  greater 
freshness  in  the  morning.  She  knew  that  her  eyes  were 
brighter,  her  complexion  clearer  and  her  curls  more  crisp 
than  after  the  drag  of  the  day.  She  knew  that  everybody  is 
from  half  an  inch  to  an  inch  taller  in  the  morning  than  in  the 
afternoon  ;  and  an  envy  of  tall  women  was  one  of  her  weak 
nesses.  She  knew  that  that  morning  costume  was  her  strong 
point — that  jaunty  little  breakfast-cap,  with  purple  ribbons  ; 
that  pretty  little  collar  and  chemisette  of  the  finest  material, 
and  perfectly  plain,  except  an  embroidered  monogram  of  D.  B. 
J.,  with  cuffs  to  match ;  that  neatly  fitting  robe  of  tinted  cash 
mere  trimmed,  and  turned  up  with  purple  satin !  Oh,  she 
knew,  cunning  Miss  De  Belvoir  Jones  !  she  knew  there  wasn't 
a  woman  in  the  house  who  didn't  abuse  her  and  her  dress  in 
the  most  outrageous  manner,  and  she  was  perfectly  satisfied. 

Miss  Jones  had  never  forgotten  that  the  handsome  young 
man  who  always  paid  his  board-bills  so  punctually  had  once 
called  her  "  dear  maid,"  in  verse,  and  she  was  always  ready  to 
do  anything  for  Luther  that  lay  in  her  power.  In  fact  her  at 
tentions  were  at  times,  as  Luther  thought,  a  little  too  strong 
ly  marked :  nothing  but  his  determined  preference  for  the 
drumstick  prevented  his  plate  from  being  heaped  every  day 
with  the  parson's  bit  and  side-bones  ;  and  as  to  his  tea,  he  had 
to  insist  upon  sweetening  it  himself.  He  could  never  trust  his 
cup  to  the  tender  mercies  of  Miss  Jones'  sugar-tongs. 

Miss  Jones  "  had  a  vacant  room  :  was  exceedingly  happy 
that  she  had  a  vacant  room.  Recollected  the  Captain  per 
fectly  ;  would  be  pleased  to  receive  him,  if  only  for  a  week ; 
hoped  however  that  she  might  have  the  pleasure  of  his  com 
pany  for  a  longer  time.  He  would  no  doubt  be  pleased  with 
her  house  and  her  boarders,  as  she  entertained  none  but  gen 
teel  people,  in  fact  the  genteelest  kind  of  people." 

"  Oh,  don't  mention  it,  my  dear  Miss  Jones,"  exclaimed  the 
Captain,  bowing  and  smiling  with  a  certain  suave  and  defer 
ential  benignity,  truly  charming,  "  don't  mention  it.  I  haven't 
the  least  objection  to  genteel  people,  in  fact  I  like  'em  except 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


3*3 


when  they  are  a  little  too  genteel ;  and  that  sometimes  happens, 
you  know,  as  in  the  case  of  Ben  Hutching's  wife — 

'  So  she  up  with  the  broomstick  and  made  him  squeal, 

Heave  and  pall,  Heave  and  pall, 
Oh  !  she  is  so  sweet  and  so  bloody  genteel, 

Heave  and  pall,  Heave  and  pall.'  " 

Miss  Jones  stared  at  the  Captain  for  a  few  moments  in  si 
lence,  and  then  quietly  led  the  way  to  the  room  in  question. 
It  proved  to  be  comfortable  and  convenient,  and  in  everything 
ready  for  immediate  occupation. 

Miss  Jones  listened  to  his  compliments,  evidently  pleased, 
but  unquestionably  astonished.  Here  was  a  new  kind  of  mon 
ster — a  sea  monster,  a  veritable  monster — a  monster  who,  in 
his  rage,  could  evidently  seize  a  woman  and  choke  all  her  vol 
ubility  right  out  of  her.  Now  Miss  Jones  never  had  had 
her  volubility  checked,  not  to  say  choked,  but  she  was  dis 
posed  to  exclaim  with  Trinculo,  "a  most  delicate  monster,' 
or  rather  with  Stephano :  "  The  poor  monster  is  my  subject 
and  he  shall  not  suffer  indignity." 

She  blushed  a  little,  courtesied  lower  than  usual,  but  went 
quietly  to  her  room,  and  sat  ruminating  for  some  time,  and 
finally  made  up  her  mind  to  add  some  side  dishes  to  her  bill 
of  fare.  "  Duff"  was  simple,  she  could  accomplish  that ;  but 
could  an  unacustomed  cook  rise  at  once  to  the  heights  of  that 
most  mysterious  nautical  dish,  "  lobscouse  ?  " 

"  What  a  very  nice,  well-built  craft,"  observed  the  Captain 
as  Miss  Jones  left  the  room.  "  Haven't  seen  anything  with 
neater  lines  and  a  cleaner  run  in  a  long  time." 

"  Don't  you  think"  said  Luther,  laughing,  "  that  she  is  a 
little  too  broad  in  the  bows  ? " 

"Well,  perhaps  she  is,  and  a  little  mite  too  full  in  the 
counter,  and  she  doesn't  tumble  home  in  the  waist  as  much  as 
some  of  them  they  build  nowadays :  but  do  you  know 
Luther,  I  like  that.  She  sails  well,  don't  she  ? " 

"  Well,  she  sails  pretty  close  to  the  wind,  some  of  her 
passengers  think,"  replied  Luther  ;  "  but  I  make  allowance  for 


3t4  NEVER  AC  A IX. 

her:  any  woman  in  a  boarding-house  has  to  lay  pretty  close, 
or  she  will  be  among  the  breakers  before  she  knows  it? " 

"  That's  it,  that's  it,"  said  the  Captain ;  "  give  her  sea 
room  and  I've  no  doubt  she'd  be  a  comfortable,  weatherly 
craft.  I  wonder  no  skipper  has  applied  for  the  command, 
eh  ? " 

"Well,  I  have  no  doubt  there  have  been  applications,  but 
you  know  how  it  is  yourself:  it  isn't  so  easy  to  obtain  the 
situation ;  and  that  brings  me  to  a  long  story  that  I  have  to 
tell  you.  Come  along  with  me  now,  down  town :  you  can 
stop  at  the  hotel  and  send  up  your  trunk,  and  then  I  shall 
have  something  to  show  you  as  well  as  to  tell  you." 

As  soon  as  they  had  got  into  the  street,  Luther  began  the 
story  of  his  visit  to  the  bank,  and  of  the  mysterious  increase 
of  his  account. 

The  Captain  was  all  attention,  and  wonder. 

"  Who  do  you  suppose  it  could  be  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  exactly  yet,  but  I  begin  to  have  my  sus 
picions." 

"It  was  some  woman,"  exclaimed  the  Captain,  suddenly 
wheeling  around  in  front  of  Luther  and  stopping  him  short  in 
his  walk, — "  it  was  some  woman.  Oh  !  Luther,  you  haven't 
been  getting  in  with  any  of  these  poor  wretched  women — reck 
less  and  generous, — have  you  ?  Wages  of  shame  and  sin, 
Luther  ! — you  wouldn't  touch  a  dollar  of  it.  They  say  there 
are  young  men,  young  gentlemen  they  sometimes  call  them 
selves,  who  do.  Luther,  I  loved  your  mother.  I  love  you  as 
my  own  son,  and  I  would  sooner  know  you  a  bold  open  thief 
— it  would  be  more  manly." 

Luther  hastened  to  relieve  the  worthy  Captain's  apprehen 
sions  by  telling  him  of  his  suspicions  of  Madame  Steignitz. 
After  describing  the  old  lady,  her  mode  of  life,  and  her  per 
sonal  habits,  and  explaining  his  relations  to  her,  and  mention 
ing  the  rumors  of  her  wealth,  the  Captain  more  than  shared 
the  suspicions,  and  expressed  the  conviction  that  Mr.  Whop 
pers  was  right,  and  that  the  donor  could  be  no  other  than  the 
old  Frenchwoman. 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


315 


"Well,  you  will  be  still  more  sure  of  it  when  I  tell  jou 
something  more,"  replied  Luther,  "  but  in  any  case  the  money 
is  clean  enough  for  me  to  use.  Of  course  I  shall  always  hold 
it  as  a  loan,  but  I  will  tell  you  what  I  think  of  doing  with  it." 

Luther  first  unfolded  his  plans  in  relation  to  the  brig. 

"  My  dear  boy,  I  cannot  think  of  it,"  replied  the  Captain, 
grasping  Luther's  hand. 

"Why  not  ?  I  let  you  have  it  as  a  loan  upon  good  security. 
It  will  be  perfectly  safe.  The  brig's  insured.  You  are  a 
judge  of  ships.  We  would  buy  only  after  you  have  made  a 
thorough  examination,  and  are  pretty  fully  satisfied  that  the 
share  is  worth  the  money." 

"  Well,  in  that  case,"  replied  the  Captain,  hesitatingly,  "  I 
don't  know  but  that  might  do.  But  the  fact  is,  Luther,  you 
are  so  young." 

"  Young  !  Why  I'm  of  age,  ain't  I !  You  forget  that  I 
have  been  three  years  in  active  life  in  New  York,  and  one 
ages  terribly  in  that  time.  It  is  true  I  am  not  nominally 
head  clerk,  but  I  am  really  chief  managing  clerk  under  Mr. 
Gainsby.  You  don't  suppose  that  a  fellow  that  the  great  firm 
of  Ledgeral,  Shippen  and  Co.  send  out  to  fill  orders  for  fifty 
thousand  dollars  worth  of  goods  for  a  foreign  market,  don't 
know  what's  right  and  what's  wrong  in  a  little  matter  of  his  own  ? 
But  after  all,  Captain,  I  don't  know  that  we  will  buy  a  share 
into  that  old  brig.  I  think  that  perhaps  we  can  do  better." 
And  Luther  went  on  to  inform  the  Captain  of  the  proposition 
of  Madame  Steignitz.  "Mind  you,"  he  said,  "I  am  not  sure 
that  anything  will  come  of  it.  It  may  have  been  all  talk,  but 
I  shouldn't  wonder  if  she  meant  it.  At  any  rate,  I  am  going 
to  find  out  all  about  the  ship.  Now  if  you'll  go  and  send  up 
your  kit  to  Bleecker  St.  and  afterwards  join  me  at  the  store  in 
Burling  Slip,  in.  about  two  hours,  I  think  I  shall  have  an  hour 
to  spare,  and  we  will  go  on  board  the  Spoondrift  and  take  a 
look  at  her.  Afterwards  you  can  go  over  to  Brooklyn,  and 
make  an  examination  of  the  old  brig.  What  do  you  say  ? " 

"  Say,  my  dear  Luther,  I  can't  say  anything  just  at  this 
moment,"  and  the  Captain  wrung  Luther's  hand.  "  I  am  just 


3I6  NEVER   AGAIN. 

taken  flat  aback.  However,  I'll  pay  off  on  one  tack  or  the 
other  in  a  little  time;  I'll  take  a  walk  by  myself  now,  and 
join  you  in  about  two  hours.  You  won't  have  to  wait  for  me. 
But  I  am  almost  afraid  to  go  on  board  the  Spoondrift.  I  am 
afraid  she  will  spoil  me  for  the  brig.  However,  I  don't  mean 
to  let  my  hopes  run  away  with  me.  I  shall  be  but  too  thank 
ful  for  the  old  craft,  and  will  resign  myself,  as  the  old  song 
says,  to  see  the  Spoondrift 

— '  bear  without  a  sigh 
Some  one  by  fortune  favored  more  than  I.' " 

Oh,  you  need  not  think  that  I  have  been  reading  Mon 
taigne,  and  Shakespeare,  and  Plutarch's  Lives  all  my  life  for 
nothing ;  and  there  is  as  much  philosophy  to  be  fished  up  out 
of  sea,  if  one  has  the  right  kind  of  a  hook  for  it,  as  you  can 
find  on  the  land." 

In  going  down  to  Burling  Slip,  Luther  stopped  for  a  mo 
ment  at  the  office  of  the  agents  and  part  owners  of  the  Spoon- 
drift,  by  whom  he  was  recognized  as  a  clerk  of  Ledgeral,  Ship- 
pen  and  Co.  In  reply  to  his  demand  if  they  were  still  desir 
ous  of  disposing  of  a  quarter-interest  in  the  ship,  an  affirmative 
answer  was  given. 

"  And  if  that  share  is  bought  in  the  name  of  a  competent 
and  experienced  man — an  able  and  energetic  sailor,  and  a 
skilful  navigator,  will  it  insure  him  the  command  ? " 

"  Certainly — we  are  on  the  look-out  for  a  commander  at 
this  moment.  Captain  Digsby,  who  came  home  in  her  three 
weeks  ago,  is  desperately  sick,  and  probably  will  never  go  to 
sea  again,  and  the  first  mate,  who  is  now  in  charge,  is  well 
enough  in  his  way,  but  he  knows  a  good  deal  more  of  seaman 
ship  than  he  does  of  navigation.  She  is  too  fine  a  ship  to 
risk  in  anything  but  first-rate  hands." 

"  Well,  will  you  give  me  the  refusal  of  the  share  at  nine 
thousand  five  hundred,  until  to-morrow  morning?  That  is 
but  a  short  time  to  make  proper  inquiries  and  examinations, 
but,  as  I  already  know  something  of  her  history,  it  may  do." 

The  agents  held  a  short  consultation,  the  result  of  which 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


317 


was  that  Luther  should  have  the  refusal  at  that  price,  and  an 
appointment  was  made  to  meet  Luther  and  the  Captain  at  the 
ship,  in  the  course  of  a  couple  of  hours. 

At  the  time  agreed  upon,  Luther  found  Captain  Combings 
waiting  for  him  outside  of  the  store  in  Burling  Slip,  and  as  he 
had  a  good  many  commissions  to  execute,  they  lost  no  time  in 
setting  off  for  the  pier  where  lay  the  Spoondrift. 

They  found  the  agent  awaiting  them,  and  together  they 
had  a  half  hour's  ramble  over  the  noble  craft,  at  the  end  of 
which  Luther,  as  he  had  no  time  to  spare,  bade  the  Captain 
good-bye,  leaving  him  for  a  more  deliberate  and  thorough 
examination. 

"  Now,  Captain,"  exclaimed  Luther,  as  he  descended  the 
gang-plank,  "  don't  get  yourself  so  completely  tangled  up  in 
the  rigging  of  this  ship,  or  buried  so  deep  in  her  hold  as  to 
forget  the  lively  craft  you  were  admiring  this  morning.  Rec 
ollect  our  dinner  is  six  o'clock,  and  Miss  Jones  likes  punctu 
ality." 

"Never  fear,  youngster.  I  shall  be  within  hail,  and  when 
she  gives  the  signal  to  close  in,  you'll  see  I'll  spring  my  luff 
with  the  best  of  you." 

It  wanted  an  hour  yet  of  six  when  the  Captain,  having  fin 
ished  his  examination  of  the  ship,  and  paid  a  visit  to  the  brig 
at  Brooklyn,  returned  to  the  house  in  Bleecker  St.  He  had  a 
good  hour  in  which  to  overhaul  matters,  and  put  things  a  lit 
tle  more  ship-shape.  He  comprehended,  at  a  glance,  that 
the  furniture  had  not  been  arranged  with  the  requisite  atten 
tion  to  economy  of  space,  and  he  at  once  threw  off  his  coat 
and  began  to  shift  his  bureau,  sofa,  and  chairs  into  their 
proper  places.  This  done,  he  unlocked  his  trunk,  which  had 
been  sent  up  from  the  hotel  during  his  absence,  and  took  out, 
carefully  wrapped  in  paper,  two  or  three  sprigs  of  coral,  and 
five  or  six  shells,  all  of  which  he  had  gathered  with  his  own 
hand  on  the  shores  of  distant  seas,  and  which,  by  a  happy 
accident,  had  survived,  in  the  custody  of  a  friend,  the  catas 
trophe  which  had  sent  his  other  goods  and  chattels  to  the 
bottom  of  the  Hudson.  These  arranged  upon  the  mantel- 


318  NEVER  AGAIN. 

piece  and  bureau  so  as  best  to  display  their  beautiful  tints 
and  graceful  forms,  the  Captain  next  made  a  dive  into  his 
trunk,  and  emerged  with  his  library  in  his  arms.  No  Mag- 
leabichie  or  Casaubon,  no  crazy  old  bibliophile,  no  musty  old 
Professor  of  Heidelberg  or  Guttingen  ever  had  a  more  intense 
love  for  his  books.  He  never  moved  without  his  library. 
Luckily  it  was  not  large.  A  classified  catalogue  would  hardly 
occupy  two  lines.  The  Bible,  Bowditch,  Shakespeare,  Plu 
tarch,  and  Montaigne — that  was  all.  The  books  were  new 
and  of  cheap  editions,  and  many  a  sad  thought  had  they  sug 
gested  of  the  old,  worn,  but  better  printed  and  better  bound 
copies  which  were  lying,  if  still  in  existence,  fifty  fathom  deep 
at  the  foot  of  the  Storm  King.  Still  the  Captain  was  not  un 
grateful.  He  often  thanked  God  for  small  type,  straw  paper, 
and  muslin  covers,  and  the  books  had  begun  to  show  in  va 
rious  places  marks  of  the  thumb — all  except  the  Bowditch. 
There  is  no  use  for  tables  of  logarithms  on  Lake  Ontario. 

The  Captain  carefully  arranged  his  books  on  his  rickety 
centre-table,  took  a  deliberate  observation,  from  several  points, 
of  them  and  the  shells,  and  concluded  that  there  was  nothing 
that  he  could  do  to  improve  their  position  or  add  to  the  gen 
eral  effect. 

"  And  now  I  suppose,"  muttered  the  Captain,  "  I  must 
dress  for  dinner.  I  don't  like  that  much.  Washing  one's 
hands  and  face  and  brushing  one's  clothes — that  is  necessary 
and  natural,  but  I  always  feel  like  a  fool  in  a  swallow-tail  and 
white  cravat.  But  what  does  Montaigne  say  ? 

'  The  countries'  custom  to  observe 
Is  proper,  and  doth  praise  deserve.' " 

Fumbling  in  the  recesses  of  his  trunk  he  finally  produced 
a  white  neck-tie,  of  a  somewhat  gorgeous  style,  with  embroid 
ered  ends.  It  had  been  used  at  the  charity  ball  for  the  Lake- 
faring-men's  Wives  and  Children's  Aid  Society  of  which  the 
Captain  had  been  persuaded  to  act  as  one  of  the  managers, 
but  it  was  still  serviceable.  With  some  misgivings  the  Captain 
lied  this  in  a  most  elaborate  knot ;  but  he  had  no  hesitation 


NEVER  AGAIN.  319 

about  the  brilliant  yellow  waistcoat  and  the  bright  blue 
coat  and  brass  buttons :  those  were  a  portion  of  costume  that 
any  lubber  would  admit  to  be  necessary  and  perfectly  comme 
il faut  all  the  seas  over. 

The  Captain  had  just  given  the  last  finishing  brush  to  his 
side  locks  and  had  seated  himself;  and,  while  awaiting  the 
signal  for  dinner,  was  turning  over  a  few  pages  of  Plutarch's 
treatise  on  the  virtuous  behavior  of  women,  when  Luther  en 
tered  the  room. 

"  All  ready,  Captain,  eh  ?  and  en  grande  tenue.  Why,  what 
have  you  put  on  a  white  cravat  for  ?  are  you  going  to  a  party 
after  dinner  ? " 

"  I  have  put  it  on,  youngster,"  deliberately  replied  the  Cap 
tain,  "  because  Montaigne  says,  '  A  wise  man  ought  within  to 
withdraw,  and  retire  his  soul  from  the  crowd,  but  as  to  this 
outward  garb  and  appearance,  he  ought  absolutely  to  follow 
and  conform  himself  with  the  fashions  of  the  time.'  " 

"  Well,  that  is  all  right  in  Montaigne,  but  I  don't  see  how 
that  compels  you  to  don  a  white  cravat  when  no  one  at  the 
table  wears  one  but  Parson  Droney." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  I  can  go  to  the  table  in  my 
black  scarf?  "  said  the  Captain,  jumping  up  briskly  and  pro 
ceeding  to  make  the  change.  "  Why  I  thought  from  the  gen 
eral  style  of  Miss  Jones'  rig  that  a  fellow  would  have  to  crack 
on  everything  that  would  draw  to  keep  way  with  her.  Bless 
me,  what  a  relief  this  is  !  Do  you  know,  Luther,  that  that  white 
choker  has  already  almost  taken  away  my  appetite  ;  I  couldn't 
have  made  more  than  half  a  meal.  I  should  have  made  as 
poor  a  fist  of  it  as  a  chaplain  at  his  prayers  the  first  Sunday 
out." 

"  Ah !  there  is  the  bell ;  we  shan't  have  time  now  to  talk 
about  the  ship ;  but  after  dinner  we  will  come  up  to  my  room 
and  smoke  a  cigar  over  it ;  and  then  I  will  take  you  round  to 
Wooster  Street,  and  we  will  see  what  Madame  Steignite  has  to 
say.  You  can  tell  me,  however,  in  one  word  what  conclusions 
you  have  come  to.  I  suppose  she  is  all  they  represent." 

"  She  is  a  perfect  beauty,"  said  the  Captain,  as  they  entered 


320  NEVER  AC  A IX. 

the  dining-room.  "  She  is  the  handsomest  thing  I've  seen 
this  many  a  day,"  and  the  gallant  Captain  made  his  best  quar 
ter  deck  bow  to  his  hostess,  who  had  just  taken  her  seat  at 
the  head  of  the  table. 

Miss  Jones  heard  the  words,  and  blushed  almost  as  red  as 
the  plate  of  pickled  beets  that  supported  on  one  side  the  mag 
nificent  piece  of  roast  beef  behind  which,  for  an  instant,  she 
hid  her  confusion.  "  The  monster  !  the  abominable  monster  ! 
This  is  some  monster  of  the  isle, but  if  I  can  recover  him,  and 
keep  him  tame,  and  get  him  to  church  with  me,  he's  a  present 
for  any  she  that  ever  trod  on  neats  leather." 

We  won't  say  that  Miss  Jones  parodied  Stephano  in  this 
absurd  manner,  but  she  might  perhaps  have  done  so  had  she 
known  as  much  of  the  Tempest  as  the  Captain  knew. 

Room  had  been  made  for  the  Captain  alongside  of  Luther, 
which  brought  him  opposite  Mrs.  Lasher  and  Dr.  Droney. 
This  was  an  opportunity  which  Mrs.  Lasher  seldom  enjoyed, 
and  which  she  could  not,  as  one  of  the  most  important  and 
influential  advocates  of  women's  rights,  neglect — an  oppor 
tunity  to  ring  in  a  new  and  unsophisticated  male  human,  and 
lead  him  through  the  flowery  mazes  of  feminine  logic  up  to 
the  philosophic  heights  of  Sorosis, 

Mrs.  Lasher  was  in  her  happiest  and  most  fluent  vein,  and 
the  Captain  listened  with  an  air  of  the  profoundest  defer 
ence  as  her  conversation,  at  first  diverging  in  equally  distrib 
uted  volleys  among  several  auditors,  became  a  fierce,  concen 
trated  fire  directly  into  him. 

Mrs.  Lasher  had  just  come  from  making  a  speech  at  the 
Cooper  Institute — a  most  important  speech,  in  which  she  had 
taken  a  stride  beyond — far  beyond — her  faint-hearted  sisters 
who  were  lingering  in  the  rear  of  the  battle. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  exclaimed,  looking  straight  at  the 
Captain,  "  that  I  no  longer  care  to  contend  for  women's  rights 
so  called,  for  their  legal  rights,  their  social  rights,  their  polit 
ical  rights.  I  go  a  step  further.  I  throw  myself  into  the  van 
of  the  movement.  I  contend  for  their  physical  rights.  The 
difference  of  sex !  what  is  it  but  development  ?  There  was 


NEVER  AGAIN, 


321 


no  difference  originally.  It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  the  hu 
man  race  was  created  male  and  female.  The  principle  of  nat 
ural  selection  discovered  by  Darwin,  aided  by  the  principles 
of  repellent  differentiation  discovered  by  myself,  has,  in  the 
course  of  ages,  disturbed  the  reproductive  conditions,  and  di 
vided  humanity  into  the  two  equal  segments  which  we  call 
male  and  female.  Now  these  principles  can  be  controlled  : 
can  be,  not  only  modified  and  mitigated,  but  absolutely  nulli 
fied.  The  mischief  can  be  undone.  It  will  take  time,  it  is 
true,  but  countless  ages  would  be  well  spent  in  the  effort,  if 
the  human  race  could,  in  the  end,  get  back  to  its  original  uni 
fied  germinal  condition." 

"  You  look  incredulous,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lasher. 

"  Do  I,  Madam  ?  "  replied  the  Captain,  smiling  and  bow 
ing.  "  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  did  not  mean  it." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  know  that  at  the  present  time  this  divarica 
ting  influence — this  centrifugal  force —  " 

"  Mrs.  Lasher  means,"  interposed  Mr.  Whoppers,  looking 
up  for  the  first  time  from  his  plate,  "  by  centrifugal  force,  a 
tendency  to  fly  off  the  handle." 

The  lady  raised  her  eyebrows,  and  directed  a  look  of  scorn 
at  the  speaker,  that  would  have  withered  anybody  but  a  New 
York  editor. 

"  This  centrifugal  force,"  she  continued,  "  is  too  strong  to 
be  overcome  in  a  day ;  but,  in  the  meantime,  I  do  not  neglect 
the  present.  I  contend  that  women  should  no  longer  be  de 
prived  of  their  physical  rights.  They  have  the  same  rights  in 
every  respect  as  men.  I  make  no  distinction.  I  put  all  wo 
men  upon  the  same  physical  platform  as  all  men." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  demanded  Mr.  Whoppers,  "  that  all 
women  have  the  right  to  chew  tobacco  ?  In  that  case  there 
would  not  be  anything  to  choose  between  them.  No,  no,  you 
can't  mean  it ;  that  would  be  a  little  too  strong.  That  would 
be  flinging  your  principles,  or  rather  your  Cavendish  and  fine- 
cut,  right  into  the  teeth  of  public  opinion." 

Mrs.  Lasher  waved  her  hand  in  contemptuous  depreca 
tion. 

21 


322  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"  I  mean  to  say  that  women  have  a  right  to  all  of  the  oc 
cupations  of  men.  That  there  are  no  duties  that  a  man  can 
perform,  that  women  with  proper  practice  and  training  cannot 
perform  as  well." 

"  Would  you  make  soldiers  of  them  ? "  demanded  Luther. 

"  No,  I  wouldn't  make  soldiers  of  them,"  said  Mrs.  Lasher 
testily,  "but  I  would  make  officers  of  them." 

"And  let  them  lead  on  to  death  or  victory  on  side 
saddles?  A  good  idea  that,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers. 
"  The  men  would  be  sure  in  that  case  to  follow  their  leaders." 

"  To  be  sure,  and  female  officers  would  lead  them  as  they 
have  never  been  led  before.  Do  you  know  that  I  maintain 
that  women  have  a  peculiar  genius  for  war.  Do  you  forget 
Boadicea,  and  Joan  of  Arc,  and  the  Maid  of  Saragossa,  and 
many  others  ?  Do  you  forget  the  Amazons,  whose  armies 
were  composed  entirely  of  women  ? " 

"  And  don't  forget  the  armies  of  Dahomey,"  interposed 
Mr.  Whoppers.  "  'Tis  said  that  they  are  very  formidable,  es 
pecially  for  home  service — they  keep  all  des  hommes  in  order." 

Mrs.  Lasher  glared  contemptuously  for  a  moment  at  the 
speaker,  and  resumed  her  discourse.  "  I  insist  upon  it,  that 
an  army  of  women  would  fight  as  well  in  the  present  day  as 
in  the  days  of  the  Amazons.  Don't  you  agree  with  me,  Cap 
tain  ?  " 

This  was  a  direct  appeal,  and  the  Captain,  who  had  been 
listening  lost  in  wonder  and  admiration,  bowed  and  smiled 
blandly. 

"  Undoubtedly,  Madam,  if  our  women  would  make  the 
same  preparation  for  battle." 

"  How  so,  sir  ?  " 

"Why,  Montaigne  says, — not  that  he  knew  anything  about 
it  personally,  but  I  have  no  doubt  he  had  good  authority, — 
he  says  that  they  mutilated  themselves  ;  that  in  order  to  han 
dle  their  weapons  properly,  they  cut  off  their  right — right — 
what  shall  I  say  ? "  and  the  Captain's  rubicund  face  grew 
slightly  redder,  as  he  made  a  significant  gesture. 

Miss  Jones'  eyes  were  cast  down  into  her  plate.     She  was 


NEVER  AGAIN.  523 

pleased  at  anything  tending  to  the  discomfiture  of  Mrs. 
Lasher,  but  then  it  was  a  little  doubtful  how  far  the  Captain 
might  go.  The  ignorant  monster  might  overstep  the  propri 
eties  of  boarding-house  life,  and  in  pure  innocence  utter  words 
forbidden.  The  other  ladies  within  hearing  seemed  to  share 
these  apprehensions,  and  regarded  the  Captain  askance  from 
lids  ready  to  drop  before  anything  too  indelicate.  Even  Dr. 
Droney  drew  himself  up,  puffed  out  his  cheeks,  uttered  a  pre 
liminary  "  hem  !  "  and  prepared  himself  to  protest  against  the 
introduction  of  anatomical  subjects  at  the  dinner-table. 

"  Nonsense  !  Captain,"  at  length  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lasher, 
"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  It  is  absurd  ;  but  if  it  is  true, 
it  shows  what  women  were  capable  of.  Our  women  are  capa 
ble  of  the  same,  and  more ;  or  rather  they  would  be  capable 
of  it,  if  they  were  fully  emancipated  and  had  their  complete 
rights.  Yes,  sir  :  in  case  of  foreign  invasion,  or  in  case  of  a 
grand  intersexual  contest,  they  would  be  capable  of  cutting 
off  not  only  one,  sir,  but — but — both — both,  sir." 

"  That  would  be  the  safe  thing  to  do,"  put  in  Mr.  Whop 
pers.  "  They  could  fight  then  without  exposing  their  breasts 
to  any  danger." 

"Mr.  Whoppers,"  exclaimed  Dr.  Droney,  "  you  forget  your 
self.  You  are  in  the  presence  of  ladies." 

"  And  of  the  Church,  too,  my  dear  Doctor.  I  beg  par 
don.  I  confess  my  fault.  I  would  ask  for  absolution,  if  you 
were  not  always  so  hard  on  the  high  church." 

"You  see,  sir,"  continued  Mrs.  Lasher,  "  that  I  have 
demonstrated  the  capacity  of  women  for  all  occupations  and 
employments.  I  like  to  take  the  bull  by  the  horns.  There 
are  many  considerations,  I  admit,  arising  out  of  the  grand  fun 
damental  question  of  sex,  which  have  been  kept  too  much  by 
both  sides  in  the  back  ground,  but  they  have  got  to  be  dis 
cussed  fully  before  this  thing  is  settled,  and  I  for  one  am  not 
afraid  of  them.  I  am  willing  to  throw  aside  all  false  delicacy, 
and  meet  any  masculine  physiologist  half  way.  But  pending 
such  discussion,  and  in  reply  to  the  sneers  and  impertinent 
and  illogical  assumptions  and  questions  of  the  male  human,  I 


;24  NEVER  AGAIX. 

claim  for  women  all  occupations,  all  employments,  all  places. 
Don't  you  think  I  am  right,  sir  ?  " 

The  Captain  hesitated,  but  smiled  benignantly,  and  in 
reply  to  the  lady's  fierce  stare  of  inquiry,  gave  a  dubious 
shake  of  the  head. 

"  I  have  settled  the  question  as  to  fighting.  Mention  a 
duty  that  a  woman  whose  brain  and  body  have  been  properly 
exercised  and  developed  cannot  perform — a  place  that  she 
cannot  fill.  Mind  you,  I  do  not  speak  of  woman  demoralized, 
devitalized  by  slavery ;  etiolated  soul  and  body  by  domestic 
drudgery ;  but  as  she  might  be — a  true  woman.  I  pause  for 
your  reply." 

"  Madam,"  said  the  Captain  with  a  slight  twinkling  of  the 
eye,  "  what  do  you  say  to  sitting  astraddle  of  a  yard-arm  and 
hauling  out  the  weather  earing  in  a  sou'-wester." 

The  Captain  intended  nothing  jocose,  but  a  loud  laugh 
from  several  bearded  brutes,  headed  by  the  Editor  of  the  Uni 
verse,  greeted  the  remark.  Mrs.  Lasher,  quite  disgusted,  in 
dignantly  swallowed  a  few  mouthfuls  of  pudding,  while  a  pro 
found  silence  of  two  minutes  fell  upon  the  whole  table.  After 
which  the  tide  of  talk  resumed  its  flow  ;  at  first  by  little  jets, 
until  Mrs.  Lasher,  giving  a  few  preliminary  conversational 
jerks,  turned  on  a  full  head,  and  sailed  in  on  a  current  of 
spiritualistic  discussion. 

"  She  had  that  very  morning  been  attending  a  most  suc 
cessful  seance.  The  manifestations  were  truly  wonderful. 
The  most  contemptible  skeptic  that  ever  lived  would  have 
believed  and  trembled.  Such  sights  and  sounds ;  such  raps 
and  taps ;  such  a  ringing  of  bells  ;  such  a  jingling  of  guitars 
and  piano-strings  ;  such  a  waving  of  phantom  hands  ;  such  a 
floating  about  of  bodies  generally,  had  never  been  seen  be 
fore." 

"  And  pray,  Madam,"  demanded  Dr.  Droney,  "  were  the 
communications  from  the  spirit  world  unusually  important?  " 

"  I  cannot  say  that  they  were,"  replied  Mrs.  Lasher,  "  or 
that  they  were  quite  as  clear  as  usual.  The  spirits  seemed 
to  content  themselves  with  exuberant  manifestations  of  their 


NEVER  AGAIN.  325 

presence,  and  did  not  seem  to  desire,  as  much  as  they  gener 
ally  do,  verbal  communication.  They  were  evidently  in  great 
giee,  and  seemed  as  if  unable  to  compose  themselves  suffi 
ciently  to  answer  our  questions.  We  had,  however,  one  im 
portant  communication,  and  from  a  member  of  the  highest 
sphere.  Who  do  you  suppose  it  was  Dr.  Droney  ?  No  less 
than  the  spirit  of  the  great  Hahneman.  He  said  that  he  sel 
dom  had  a  greater  pleasure  than  that  which  he  had  just  en 
joyed  in  reading  some  lines  of  a  modern  English  poet." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Lasher,"  exclaimed  Dr.  Droney  in  a  tone  of 
anxious  interest,  "  did  he  repeat  the  lines  ?  " 

"  He  did." 

"  And  do  you,  my  dear  Mrs.  Lasher,  remember  them  ?  "     , 

"  I  do  ;  listen. 

'  Sound  the  loud  medical  eclectic  timbrel, 
O'er  the  British  Isles,  and  across  the  wide  sea, 
Till  the  hosts  of  despotic,  rascally  regulars, 
And  tyrannical  allopaths  are  completely  vanquished, 
And  the  people  and  the  independent  eclectic  doctors 
Are  forever  set  free — forever  set  free.' 

When,  oh !  when,  Dr.  Droney,  shall  we  have  such  a  poet — 
a  true  American  poet  ?  One  who  will  attune  his  lyre  to  the 
music  of  the  spheres, — one  who  will  time  his  chant  to  the 
gigantic  stride  of  the  ages, — one  who  can  pluck  a  plume  from 
the  pinions  of  the  great  American  eagle,  and  inscribe  amid 
rolling  worlds,  upon  the  blue  vault  of  heaven,  in  letters  of 
fire,  the  word  FREEDOM  ?  " 

"  Neither  the  Doctor  nor  myself,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Whop 
pers,  "  can  answer  you  when  such  a  poet  will  appear ;  but  1 
think  I  can  venture  to  say  that  if  he  appears,  and  writes  that 
word  in  the  place  you  propose,  no  mortal  on  this  earth  will 
have  a  better  right  to  say  '  How  is  that  for  high  ? '  " 

There  was  a  general  laugh.  Even  the  bland  and,  towards 
women,  ever  deferential  Captain  smiled  a  broader  smile 
than  usual. 

Mrs.  Lasher  turned  upon  him  somewhat  fiercely.  "  Are 
you  too  among  the  scorners  ?  Are  you  too  a  skeptic?  Do 


3  2  6  A£  VER  A  CA  IN. 

you  doubt  all  manifestations  ?  Do  you  doubt  that  a  table 
can  move  without  human  hands  touching  it  ?  " 

"Oh  no,  Madam,"  replied  the  Captain.  "I  have  not  the 
slightest  doubt  of  that.  I  have  known  it.  I  have  seen  it 
with  my  own  eyes." 

"  You  have !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lasher,  a  sudden  smile 
rippling  from  brow  to  chin,  and  breaking  the  rigid  lines  of 
her  face.  "  Listen,  Dr.  Droney.  Listen  all.  The  Captain 
will  tell  us  his  experience.  You  have  seen  a  table  move  ! 
under  what  circumstances  pray  ?  Who  was  the  medium  ? " 

"There  wasn't  any  medium,  Madam.  We  never  do  have 
any  medium  in  those  latitudes.  It  is  always  flap-flap,  roll- 
roll,  as  lazy  as  a  dead  donkey  in  a  duck  pond,  or  else  you 
have  the  very  devil  himself  tearing  away  at  your  gaskets  and 
ring-bolts.  There  is  no  medium  about  it." 

"But  the  table-turning? " 

"  Oh  yes,  Madam.  I  have  seen  a  table  turn  completely 
over.  I  have  seen  it  break  its  lashings  and  jump  up  and 
smash  the  lamp  hanging  over  it." 

"  What  a  violent  spirit !  " 

"  What  an  evil  spirit ! "  exclaimed  Dr.  Droney.  "  It 
proves  my  theory :  evil  spirits  all — the  devil  and  his  imps, — 
nothing  but  the  devil ! — nothing  but  the  devil !" 

"When  was  this,  Captain? — when  was  it?"  demanded 
Mrs.  Lasher  in  a  tone  of  intense  interest. 

"  Well,  it  was  in  a  tornado  just  oft"  the  Isle  of  Bourbon. 
You  see  we  lay  on  our  beam  ends  for  more  than  five  hours, 
and  when  the  wind  lulled  the  sea  got  up,  and  I  thought  more 
than  a  dozen  times  that  the  old  ship  would  turn  bottom 
upwards.  I  tell  you  what,  I  felt  like  saying  with  Gonzalo, 
'  Now  would  I  give  a  thousand  furlongs  of  sea  for  an  acre  of 
barren  ground,  long  heath,  brown  furze,  anything' — " 

"  Pshaw !  '  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lasher,  rising  from  the  table. 
"  Nothing  but  a  tornado  !  " 

"Nothing  but  a  tornado?"  echoed  the  Captain.  "I  can 
tell  you  what,  ma'am,  if  you  had  been  there  you  would  have 
cned  anything  but  a  tornado.  Why,  ma'am,  do  you  know 


NEVER  AGAIN.  327 

what  a  tornado  is  ?  a  big  storm,  now,  I  presume  you  think. 
Permit  me  to  explain  the  difference ;  if  you  had  five  or 
six  big  storms  all  blowing  together  one  way,  say  nor'- 
west  by  north,  and  you  brought  along  a  tornado  blowing 
the  other  way,  say  sou'-east  by  south,  the  tornado  would 
blow  all  your  storms  into  a  dead  flat  calm,  blow  clean 
over  them,  and  blow  a  double-reefed-topsail  breeze  on 
the  other  side.  Why,  ma'am,  a  tornado  has  been  known  to 
twist  a  ship's  masts  right  off  short  by  the  deck,  and  then 
scoop  the  hull  up,  and  smash  it  down  a  hundred  rod  inland. 
I  have  known  a  hurricane,  which  is  the  same  thing,  roll 
heavy  cannon  along  a  rampart  like  chips,  and  at  Turk's 
Island,  once,  a  tornado  took  a  bundle  of  shingles,  tore  it  open, 
and  sent  the  shingles  flying  with  such  force,  that  one 
striking  a  negro  on  the  neck,  cut  his  head  clean  off,  and 
the  head  went  bowling  along  until  it  lodged  in  the  wreck 
of  a  salt-house  three  miles  off." 

Mrs.  Lasher  had  no  great  taste  for  physical  phenomena. 
The  aridity  of  mere  facts — the  dulness  and  littleness  of  or 
dinary  nature,  disgusted  her.  Like  most  women,  she  felt  a 
strong  disinclination  to  cramp  her  mind  down  to  the  petty 
rules  and  regulations  of  scientific  observation.  As  she  said 
to  herself,  her  world  was  the  world  of  theory — there,  up-borne 
upon  the  pinions  of  an  enlightened  faith,  she  could  float  from 
peak  to  peak  of  knowledge  far  above  the  bands  of  miserable 
scientists  toiling  amid  the  dust  and  mud  of  science  and  strug 
gling  for  facts  in  the  bonds  of  a  self-imposed  logic.  What 
interest  could  an  adept  in  the  supernatural  and  the  transcen 
dental — a  professor  of  socialistic  and  spiritualistic  philosophy, 
take  in  storms  and  tornadoes,  and  such  foolish  subjects ;  so  she 
at  once  rose  from  the  table,  and,  followed  by  her  disciple,  D.\ 
Droney,  stalked  off  to  the  drawing-room ;  while  Miss  Jones 
and  a  half-a-dozen  others,  including  Luther  and  Mr.  Whop 
pers,  drew  round  the  Captain  and  encouraged  him  to  go  on 
with  his  stories  of  marine  table-tipping.  Tea  came  and  went 
and  still  the  Captain  remained  master  of  the  field,  while  Mrs. 
Lasher  fingered  her  teaspoon  in  jealous  silence.  Even  Dr. 


328  NEVER   AGAIN, 

Droney  was  more  than  once  choked  off  from  some  profound 
utterance,  by  an  energetic  call  upon  the  Captain  for  more 
talk. 

At  length  Luther  was  compelled  to  interfere  and  inform 
the  Captain  that  it  was  time  to  make  their  contemplated  visit 
to  Madame  Steignitz,  if  they  were  to  see  her  that  evening. 

In  anticipation  of  this  visit  Madame  had  bought  a  third 
chair.  It  had  seen  service,  but  was  still  fit  for  duty,  and  cer 
tainly  more  comfortable  than  the  top  of  a  rough  deal  box, 
which,  in  default  of  the  chair,  one  of  the  three  would  have 
had  to  occupy.  She  received  the  Captain  courteously  but 
cautiously,  and  asked  a  variety  of  questions,  finally  coming 
down  to  the  subject  of  the  ship  in  a  hesitating  way,  that  beto 
kened,  as  Luther  thought,  no  very  brilliant  prospect  of  their 
being  able  to  purchase  the  share.  His  heart  began  to  sink 
within  him. 

The  Captain  gave  a  glowing  description  of  the  vessel, 
praised  her  rig,  her  model,  and  her  construction  generally,  and 
expressed  his  satisfaction  with  her  sailing  qualities,  as  repre 
sented  by  her  agents  and  first  mate. 

Madame  listened  with  interest,  but  suddenly  glancing  at 
Luther,  her  eyes  drooped,  and  her  face  lengthened.  "  Oh,  I 
am  so  sorry.  I  am  so  sorry.  I  am  such  a  poor  woman,"  she 
exclaimed.  "  If  I  were  rich  you  should  see,  but  I  have  so 
little  money.  Oh,  it  is  so  very  hard  for  a  poor  woman  to  get 
along.  I  go  round, — I  try  to  borrow  some  money  on  this 
house.  Everybody  say,  '  No,  I  do  not  like  a  second  mort 
gage.'  But  I  cry,  Mon  Dieu,  I  must  have  the  money !  'tis  for 
to  buy  a  ship  for  my  dear  boy  here,  and  his  brave  friend,  and 
they  say,  '  Go  away,  we  have  no  money  to  lend.'  I  say,  What 
can  I  do  ?  And  then  I  think,  think.  Oh,  I  rack  my  brain,  as 
you  say  in  English.  But  if  I  rack  my  brain  till  I  go  mad, 
that  will  not  make  money.  Besides  that,  no  one  likes  a  sec 
ond  mortgage.  Money  is  very  tight  now.  Nobody  has  got 
money  to  lend.  You  know  that,  eh  ?  The  newspapers  all 
say  the  money-market  is  so  tight.  One  per  cent.,  two  per 
cent,  a  month,  eh  ?  " 


.       NEVER  AGAIN.  329 

"Well,  Captain,  that  puts  an  end  to  the  Spoondrift,"  and 
Luther  could  not  keep  his  mortification  from  showing  itself  in 
his  tone  of  voice. 

"  Never  mind,  youngster,  it  is  of  no  great  consequence," 
and  the  Captain  took  Luther's  hand  in  his  own,  and  gave  it  a 
cordial  squeeze.  "  It  is  perhaps  better  so,  and  you  know  I'm 
used  to  it.  As  Edgar  says,  I  am 

'  A  most  poor  man,  made  tame  by  fortune's  blows.' 

I  have  built  me  castles  in  the  air  before  now,  and  have  seen 
them  tumble  without  crying.  As  I  walked  her  deck  this 
morning,  I  thought  to  myself  that  the  old  brig  would  better 
correspond  to  my  fortunes.  Much  obliged  to  you,  ma'am,  all 
the  same.  You  have  shown  your  good  will,  and,  as  one  of 
my  old  friends  says,  '  hearty  endeavor  deserves  a  meed  the 
same  in  kind,  if  not  so  rich,  as  does  a  full  performance.' 
Much  and  deeply  obliged  to  you,  ma'am.  So  I'll  bid  you 
good-night  now,  and  leave  you  and  Luther  to  your  German 
lesson  in  quiet." 

"  No  !  no  !  "  cried  Madame  Steignitz,  "  sit  you  still.  I 
have  not  finished  all  I  have  to  say.  Take  your  chair — take 
your  chair — I  insist." 

As  the  Captain  resumed  his  seat,  the  old  lady  rose,  and 
bustling  across  the  room  to  the  old  buffet,  pulled  open  a 
drawer,  and  took  out  a  parcel  wrapped  in  brown  paper,  which 
she  placed  on  the  table  between  her  two  guests. 

The  Captain  eyed  the  greasy-looking  package  with  some 
curiosity. 

"  She  can't  be  going  to  console  us  with  a  red  herring," 
whispered  Luther,  as  he  sniffed  up  a  strong  odor  of  that  in 
teresting  animal. 

"  You  see,"  said  Madame,  resuming  her  seat,  "  I  could 
get  no  money  upon  mortgage.  Everybody  refuse  a  second 
mortgage.  But  somebody,  he  say  to  me,  I  like  this  house.  I 
will  buy  this  house.  I  say,  How  much  you  give.  He  say. 
Twenty  thousand  dollars.  But,  I  say,  I  cannot  move  from  my 
room.  He  say,  You  need  not ;  you  shall  keep  your  rooms  for 
nothing,  because  you  shall  be  my  agent  to  rent  the  apart- 


33° 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


ments.  I  say,  Very  well ;  there  is  a  mortgage  of  twelve  thou 
sand  dollars  that  you  can  pay  when  it  is  due,  and  eight  thou 
sand  you  can  pay  me  cash  down,  and  two  thousand  afterward." 

Luther  and  the  Captain  earnestly  protested  against  any 
such  sacrifice  for  them.  The  price  was  too  low.  She  must 
not — should  not  give  up  a  property  that  was  so  rapidly  rising 
in  value,  and  would  be  soon  wanted  for  business  purposes.  Jr 
wouKl  be  really  throwing  it  away. 

Madame  Steignitz  nodded  her  head  in  a  knowing  way 
three  or  four  times,  and  screwed  her  face  into  a  cunning  leer. 

"  Chut  !  Don't  you  be  afraid.  I  cheat  him  two  thou 
sand  dollars.  I  know  how  old  and  rotten  it  is.  I  know  all  the 
rat-holes.  I  know  all  the  nuisance.  Don't  you  be  afraid.  I 
make  a  good  bargain.  My  money  will  be  better  in  a  new 
ship  than  in  such  an  old  tumble-down  thing  as  this." 

"  But  how  long,"  demanded  Luther,  "  will  it  be  in  forth 
coming  ?  It  takes  so  long  to  search  titles  and  draw  deeds, 
and  I  am  afraid  they  will  not  hold  the  share  for  us." 

"  Ah !  I  think  of  that.  I  say  to  him  I  must  have  the 
cash  right  down.  You  can  wait  for  the  deed,  but  I  must  have 
the  money  now,  to-day.  There  it  is  ;  count  it,  and  put  it  in 
your  pocket." 

Luther  took  up  the  package,  and  untied  the  dirty  piece  of 
coarse  twine  that  encircled  it.  He  unrolled  five  or  six  cover 
ings  of  the  stififest  yellow  straw  paper,  bearing  the  marks  of 
the  pound  of  salt  pork  round  which  it  had  at  first  come  from 
the  corner  grocery,  and  took  out  eight  new  crisp  bank-notes 
of  a  thousand  dollars  each. 

The  old  lady  sat  with  her  elbows  on  the  table,  and  her 
chin  in  her  hands,  evidently  enjoying  the  looks  of  mingled  sat 
isfaction  and  astonishment  with  which  the  two  men  alter 
nately  regarded  her,  each  other,  and  the  bank-bills.  "All 
right,  eh  ?  That  will  do,  eh  ?  You  put  your  monies  to  that, 
and  Monsieur  le  Captain  will  have  his  ship  to-morrow.  I 
think,  Luther,  he  must  ask  us  to  come  down  to  his  cabin,  and 
give  us  a  little  something  good,  eh  !  Let  me  see,  what  shall 
it  be, — -pati  de foie gras ?  No,  no,  that  cost  too  much.  We  will 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


33* 


have  just  an  omelette  aux  rognons,  or  a  fricandeau  aux  epi- 
nards,  and  one  small  bottle  of  Champagne,  and  I  will  think 
that  I  am  once  more  in  the  little  cabinet  sur  r entresol  of  the 
cafe  Anglais,  Ah  mon  Dicu  !  mon  Dieu  /  Comme  le  temps 
passe." 

Arrangements  for  the  purchase  next  day  of  the  share  in 
the  old  lady's  name  were  settled  upon  ;  she  seeming  quite  in 
different  to  the  details, — her  only  apparent  anxiety  being  that 
the  money  should  be  securely  pinned  into  Luther's  vest 
pocket.  The  gentlemen  took  leave  of  her  with  a  few  but 
hearty  acknowledgments. 

Upon  getting  into  the  street  they  walked  along  together 
for  some  moments  in  silence. 

"  What  do  you  think  Captain  ?  "  suddenly  demanded 
Luther. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  think." 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  what  I  begin  to  think,  and  that  is,  that 
all  that  story  about  selling  the  house  is  just  a  complete  bit  of 
gammon,  or  in  other  words,  a  confounded  lie." 

"  Possibly ;  but  it  isn't  for  us  to  give  it  so  hard  a  name. 
Call  it  a  little  bit  of  feminine  romancing — that  would  be 
nearer  the  mark.  One  thing  I  think,  and  that  is  that  a  woman 
who  points  up  eight  thousand  dollars  for  such  a  poor  devil  as 
myself,  out  of  pure  affection  for  his  young  friend,  has  a  per 
fect  right  to  tell  any  stories  about  it  she  pleases." 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  they  reached  Bleecker  Street. 
Luther  was  not  sorry  to  get  in  the  house,  and  feel  the  money 
all  safe  in  his  pocket.  By  the  merest  accident,  Miss  Jones 
happened  to  be  in  the  hall  when  they  entered,  and  insisted 
upon  their  stepping  down  into  her  private  parlor  in  the  front 
basement,  where  she  had  ready  a  hot  fried  oyster  with  some 
toasted  ship-biscuit — the  nearest  approach  to  a  marine  dish 
that  she  could  command.  Both  the  gentlemen  were  in  good 
spirits,  and  somewhat  hungry  ;  and  as  may  be  supposed,  the 
general  geniality  was  not  impaired  by  a  glass  of  hot  whiskey 
punch,  brewed  by  the  fair  hands  of  Miss  Jones  herself,  and  in 
which,  with  some  sly  complimentary  remarks,  the  gallant 


332 


NEVER  AGAIX. 


Captain  pledged  his  fair  hostess,  and  afterwards  drank  to  Lu 
ther,  Madame  Steignitz,  the  Spoondrift,  himself,  and  the 
world  in  general 

The  Captain  retired  to  dream  beautiful  dreams ;  to  glide 
over  halcyon  seas  in  a  splendid  clipper  ship  under  full  sail, 
without  the  necessity  of  touching  braces  or  clewlines  ;  and  to 
wander  hand  in  hand  with  a  buxom  maiden  in  frizettes  and 
flounces,  through  the  flowery  meads  of  a  nice  little  box  on  the 
Hudson. 

Miss  Jones  retired,  but  not  to  sleep, — her  active  fancy 
converting  the  sounds  that  came  from  her  neighbor  in  the 
next  room — a  hard  sleeper — into  the  creaking  of  bulkheads, 
the  moan  of  the  waves,  and  the  sighing  of  the  wind  through 
the  tightened  rigging. 

Luther  was  soon  in  a  sound  sleep,  but  was  several  times 
startled  out  of  his  slumber  by  a  frantic  effort  to  jump  a  golden 
gulf,  and  one  time  almost  flung  himself  out  of  bed  by  a  des 
perate  attempt  to  swim  a  silver  sea,  and  lay  a  sprig  of  forget- 
me-not,  which  he  carried  in  his  mouth,  at  the  feet  of  a  female 
figure  standing  on  the  other  side  all  decked  in  chignon  and 
crinoline,  and  costumed  in  a  resplendent  robe  of  some  mate 
rial  so  delicate  and  fine,  that  while  concealing  the  form,  it 
allowed  the  general  luminosity  of  the  angel  within  to  flash 
through. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

The  Spoondrift  has  sailed — Spooner  and  Boggs  on  Aristocratic  For 
eigners  —  Mrs.  Ledgeral  in  trouble  —  A  Matrimonial  Confab  —  An 
Anonymous  Bouquet. 

TT)LESSED  be  the  man  that  first  invented  the  chapter.  I 
JD  don't  mean  an  arbitrary  and  inartistic  division  at  the 
end  of  every  fifteen  or  twenty  pages,  but  the  division  that 
marks  the  natural,  yet  connective  sections  of  an  organic  whole, 
like  the  joints  of  a  bamboo,  or  the  segments  of  a  tape-worm. 
A  necessary  indication  and  out-growth  of  an  inherent  specific 
vitality. 

Sentences  are,  and  probably  always  have  been,  a  common 
and  universal  necessity  of  life.  Paragraphs  have  their  vir 
tues  and  utilities,  but  the  chapter  is  the  crowning  mercy  of 
novel-wrights,  and,  we  may  add,  of  novel-readers. 

The  chapter  stands  for  so  much  time  elapsed,  so  many  in 
cidents  unrecorded,  and,  in  fact,  unmentioned  ;  so  much  sup 
posititious  development  of  character  and  plot,  that  it  must  be 
considered  one  of  the  chiefest  instruments  of  the  novelist.  It 
saves  so  much  of  uninteresting  description  ;  so  much  of  tedi 
ous  detail ;  so  much  of  interlinking  twaddle,  that  the  novel- 
reader  is  under  equal  obligations. 

It  covers  ground,  as  well  as  time,  so  nicely  ;  and,  when 
used  adroitly,  shifts  scenes  so  deftly,  that  both  can  join  in  the 
invocation,  blessed  be  the  man  who  first  invented  the  chapter. 

We  will  take  advantage,  then,  of  this  invention,  and  sup 
pose  the  Spoondrift  has  taken  her  departure,  and,  under  the 
skilful  guidance  of  her  happy  captain,  is  already  nearing  her 
destined  port.  Luther  still  continues  his  visits  to  Madame 


334 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


Steignitz ;  and  that  not  alone  for  his  German,  in  which  he  is 
making  great  progress,  but  because  he  has  really  become  very 
much  interested  in  her.  Despite  some  of  her  disagreeable 
personal  habits,  and  the  actual  squalor  of  her  apartment,  he 
could  not  but  admit  the  influence  of  her  vivacity,  her  knowl 
edge  of  the  world,  her  great  conversational  powers,  and  her 
most  decided  and  manifest  affection  for  himself.  Even  if  he 
had  disliked  her  he  would  still  have  continued  his  visits. 
They  seemed  to  give  her  pleasure.  She  might-  not  be  poor, 
but  she  was  evidently  forlorn,  and,  in  addition  to  pity,  and  a 
stronger  feeling  of  affection  than  he  was  aware  of,  he  felt  that 
he  owed  her  a  deep  debt  of  gratitude  for  his  progress  in  the 
languages,  and  above  all  for  her  aid  in  carrying  out  his 
scheme  for  the  advancement  of  the  Captain.  Luther  was  of 
too  generous  a  nature  to  speculate  upon  future  benefits,  but 
he  could  not  conceal  from  himself  the  fact,  that  in  the  balance 
of  obligations,  the  old  lady  might  have  it  in  her  power  to  hold 
him  always  at  a  disadvantage,  however  much  he  might  do  for 
her. 

Nothing  unusual  had  occurred  in  Luther's  life.  Close  at 
tention  to  business,  some  study,  and  occasional  theatre  and 
opera-going  on  nights  when  he  was  not  visiting  Madame,  made 
up  the  daily  routine.  His  opportunities  of  meeting  Miss 
Helen  Ledgeral  continued  few  and  far  between.  Once  since 
his  first  party  he  had  been  invited  to  Aunt  Shippen's.  He 
saw  her  regularly  at  church,  and  had  contrived  to  meet  her 
two  or  three  times  in  the  street,  but  there  was  always  some 
one  with  her,  and  there  was  no  chance  for  anything  more  than 
a  bow  and  a  passing  remark.  But  looks  and  tones,  like  tele 
graph  wires,  can  be  made  to  convey  a  great  deal  of  informa 
tion  that  the  ordinary  observer  cannot  even  guess  at ;  even  if 
the  message  is  intercepted,  it  is  generally  in  cipher,  and  can 
be  read  only  by  persons  that  have  the  key  by  heart.  In  this 
way  a  great  deal  of  sentimental  progress  can  be  made,  with 
out  even  the  parties  themselves  being  fully  aware  how  far  they 
have  gone.  Like  water  percolating  through  a  quicksand,  the 
slender,  confined,  impeded  stream  of  love  makes  its  way 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


335 


silently,  without  surface  indications,  until  the  whole  being  is 
saturated  with  passion,  and  ready  to  slump  off  into  the  ocean 
of  matrimony  at  the  first  high  tide. 

It  won't  do,  perhaps,  to  say  that  Helen  Ledgeral  was 
deeply  in  love  with  Luther  ;  but  there  can  be  no  hesitation 
in  stating  the  fact  that  he  was  most  desperately  in  love  with 
her. 

It  was,  therefore,  with  a  sentiment  of  deep  mortification 
that  he  found  that  there  was  to  be  a  party  at  the  Ledgerals  to 
which  he  was  not  invited.  What  could  be  the  reason  ?  Had 
she  deserted  him  ?  Impossible  !  She  had  replied  to  his 
passing  salutation  the  week  before  by  the  brightest,  most 
cunning  little  smile,  and  the  least  touch  of  a  blush,  which  said 
as  plain  as  words  could  say,  "  I  am  afraid  that  I  am  a  little 
too  glad  to  see  you."  Could  she  have  lost  her  influence  with 
her  mother  and  Aunt  Shippen,  and  dared  no  longer  to  suggest 
an  invitation  for  him  ?  Not  probable.  What  could  it  be  ? 
Were  the  old  folks  getting  jealous  of  him  ?  Perhaps  !  But 
how  about  that  young  Count  who  was  coming  from  Germany, 
consigned  to  the  care  of  Mr.  Ledgeral, — was  he  good-look 
ing  ?  He  was  very  rich,  that  was  certain,  and  a  real  Count — 
none  of  your  impostors  who  have  so  frequently  exploited  the 
ingrained  flunkyism  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  character  which 
obtains  everywhere,  but,  perhaps,  with  more  intensity  than 
anywhere  else,  in  New  York  society. 

Luther's  mortification  took  a  tincture  of  rage  as  he  cogi 
tated  the  case  of  a  veritable  Count,  young,  rich,  and  hand 
some.  He  will  certainly  fall  in  love  with  her,  and  how  can 
she  resist  him  ?  and  why  should  she  resist  him  ?  Any  verita 
ble  Count,  old,  rich,  and  ugly,  could  undoubtedly  pick  and 
choose  among  all  the  other  girls  in  New  York.  Didn't  every 
body  say  so  ?  Didn't  all  the  newspapers  say  so  ?  Don't 
Spooner,  the  head  clerk,  and  the  one  who  has  been  sent  out 
several  times  on  foreign  business  for  the  house,  say  that  the 
funniest  sight  he  has  ever  seen,  both  at  home  and  abroad, 
is  a  lot  of  American  girls  of  high  fashion  running  after  some 
vagabond  sprig  of  English  nobility,  or  some  fiddling,  dancing, 


336  NEVER  AGAIN. 

gambling,  frog-eating,  macaroni-sucking,  fortune-hunting  loafer^ 
with  a  Continental  title — about  equal  in  real  value,  as  titles 
go,  to  a  continental  d — n.  Spooner  says  that  the  fellow  has 
only  to  pirouet,  flap  his  wings,  crow  a  little,  and  all  the  fash 
ionable  girls  who  have  a  drop  of  English  blood  in  their  bodies, 
however  diluted,  will  rush  round  him,  fluttering  and  cackling, 
and  ready  to  swallow  any  stuff  he  can  scratch  up  for  them. 

It  is  true,  Boggs  says  that  Spooner  is,  to  some  extent, 
mistaken.  He  says  that  the  girls  are  really  too  busy  with 
their  own  little  flirtations  with  cousin  Tom,  and  Tom's  cousin, 
Jim,  to  bother  themselves  much  about  aristocratic  foreigners. 
Their  first  social  plumings  and  flutterings  are  enough  for  the 
young  things,  or,  in  other  words,  the  mere  sparkle  and  foam 
of  the  Champagne  gets  into  their  unpractised  heads,  and  until 
that  goes  off  they  never  care  for  downright  draughts  of  a  for 
eign  vintage.  It  is  the  old  ones,  Boggs  says,  especially  the 
married  women,  and  antiquated  damsels  of  eight-and-twenty, 
who  really  do  all  the  gobmouching  of  society.  You'll  find 
that  the  cackling  over  a  sprig  of  nobility  all  comes  from  them, 
and  it  don't  indicate  that  they  are  such  downright  fools  as  you 
might  at  first  think.  It  is  the  reflex  action  that  they  care 
about.  Their  attentions  to  foreigners  of  rank  are  merely 
social  boomerangs.  They  launch  them  out,  apparently,  with 
a  clear  aim  at  the  head  of  the  unlucky  foreigner,  but  really  in 
the  hope  that  they  will  twist  themselves  around,  and  coming 
back,  knock  down  the  thrower's  own  friends.  Mr.  Boggs 
may  be  right,  thought  Luther,  but  it  is  doubtful.  Spooner  is 
very  emphatic. 

Now,  if  an  old,  rich,  and  ugly  Count  could  take  his  pick 
from  the  general  mass,  why  should  Helen  Ledgeral,  who,  to 
be  sure,  is  not  of  the  general  mass,  refuse  one  young,  rich,  and 
handsome  ?  Of  course  she  would  take  him. 

But  then,  what  a  donkey  he,  Luther,  was  making  of  him 
self.  The  Count  hadn't  arrived  yet.  Perhaps  he  never 
would  arrive.  So,  as  Whoppers  would  say,  what's  the  use 
counting  on  that  Count. 

But  then,  why  had  he  not  received  an  invitation  ?     Well, 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


337 


he'd  have  his  revenge.     He'd  do  something  desperate.     What 
should  it  be  ? 

Luther  cogitated  for  some  moments  in  silence.  "  I  have 
it,"  said  he.  "  Yes,  I'll  send  her  an  anonymous  bouquet,  and 
I'll  send  her  some  verses  with  it.  She'll  know  who  it  comes 
from.  It  isn't  the  first  time.  True,  I  made  up  my  mind  that 
I  never  would  again.  I  would  act  fairly  if  they  would  act  fairly 
by  me.  I  know  it's  wrong,  but  I'll  go  hang  but  I  will  do  it. 
I'll  put  in  an  allusion  to  her  writing  verses  herself.  If  I  can't 
be  present  in  person  I  will  be  in  spirit.  I'll  make  her  think 
more  of  me  than  if  I  were  there,"  and  with  this  diabolical  in 
tention  Luther  sat  down  to  his  desk. 

Now  it  was  with  these  verses  in  her  hands  that  Mrs.  Ledgeral, 
the  morning  after  the  party,  entered  the  library  and  carefully 
closed  the  door  after  her.  "  My  dear,"  she  said,  "  I  have 
come  to  have  a  few  words  of  private  conversation  with  you. 
You  do  not  expect  any  visitor,  do  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Ledgeral  started.  He  had  grown,  of  late,  very  taci 
turn  ;  very  moody  ;  in  fact,  morose,  except  at  times  when  an 
occasional  flash  of  forced  jollity  lighted  up  his  manner.  He 
sat  alone  in  his  study  most  of  his  time  when  at  home,  and  re 
pelled,  as  an  intrusion,  any  visits  of  his  wife  and  daughters. 
His  looks  began  to  betray  some  internal  cause  of  anxiety. 
He  grew  thinner,  lost  color,  and  a  wan  expression  was  fast 
settling  about  eyes  and  mouth.  But  he  would  not  tolerate 
the  slightest  question  about  his  health.  His  daughter  Helen 
was  the  only  one  with  whom  he  maintained  anything  like  the 
old  pleasant  relations. 

Mr.  Ledgeral  evidently  had  his  secrets.  Mrs.  Ledgeral 
watched  him  closely.  At  first  she  thought  there  was  some 
woman  in  the  case.  What  more  natural  ?  After  fifty  all  men 
are  such  confounded  fools  and  simpletons  when  a  pretty  face 
is  concerned.  Any  woman  with  a  little  tact,  and  the  slightest 
modicum  of  good  looks,  can  twist  them  around  her  finger. 
But  she  was  a  sensible  woman,  and  she  wasn't  going  to  trou 
ble  herself  about  anything  of  that  kind.  Besides  she  had 
always  exacted  a  fair  amount  of  liberty  for  herself,  and  she 


338  NEVER   AGAIN. 

recollected,  not  without  a  pleasant  little  blush,  several  flirta 
tions — amiable  and  innocent,  of  course — which  Mr.  Ledgeral 
had  kindly  overlooked,  and  which,  at  the  time,  as  she  must 
admit,  she  had  not  been  desirous  of  having  investigated  too 
closely. 

But,  after  all,  there  could  hardly  be  a  woman  in  the  case. 
The  symptoms  were  decidedly  against  it.  He  seldom  went 
out  of  an  evening ;  never  went  to  his  club ;  even  the  meetings 
of  the  Historical  Society  were  neglected.  His  allowance  of 
sherry  at  dinner  had  gained  rapidly,  and  the  Sunday  Cham 
pagne  was  becoming  a  daily  custom.  The  single  night-cap 
of  Bourbon  had  been  frequently  doubled,  and  more  than  once 
Joseph  had  grown  almost  white  in  the  face  at  a  requisition  for 
gin  and  bitters  before  breakfast.  It  couldn't  be  a  woman. 
It  must  be  that  confounded  "business,"  and  yet  there  were  no 
rumors  of  disaster  since  they  had  got  through  so  nicely  the 
last  great  panic.  She  knew  he  had  lost  a  great  deal  of  money 
by  outside  speculation  ;  but  then,  if  men  will  be  so  foolish  as 
to  lose  money,  it  serves  them  right,  so  long  as  their  wives  and 
daughters  have  enough  to  pay  Madame  Volorem's  bills,  with 
all  the  charges  for  corresponding  "  fixings  "  generally ;  and 
of  any  want  in  that  way  there  was  no  sign.  Why,  then,  should 
she  borrow  trouble  and  bother  herself  about  her  husband's 
secret  cause  of  /anxiety  ?  Middle  age  is  short  and  fashion 
fleeting.  No  good-looking  woman  in  society  can  afford  to 
waste  her  time  over  anything  but  her  own  troubles.  Her 
rouge-pot,  together  with  the  patent  invisible  wrinkle  eradica- 
tor,  and  Phalon's  dcgrizleizer,  come  soon  enough  without 
that. 

"  I  have  looked  in,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Ledgeral,  "  to 
consult  you  about  a  matter  that  I  think  is  beginning  to  require 
consideration.  Not  that  it  is  at  all  serious,  but  in  these  cases 
one  can't  be  too  prompt.  That  clerk  of  yours — Luther — is  a 
very  good-looking  young  fellow." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  lighted  up  at  once  when  he  found  that  his 
wife  was  not  about  to  probe  any  of  his  secret  sores. 

"  Yes,  very  good-looking  ;  but  I  should  hardly  have  sup- 


A~F.l'£A'  AGAIN.  339 

posed  his  personal  beauty  sufficiently  striking  to  have  attracted 
your  observation  particularly." 

"  Not  mine  particularly,  others  as  well ;  and  among  them, 
if  I  am  not  mistaken,  your  daughter." 

"  Laura  ?  Pooh  !  No  danger,  my  dear.  She  has  been 
too  well  trained  to  look  for  manly  beauty  anywhere  but  in  a 
fellow's  pocket." 

"  You're  too  stupid,  my  dear.  Laura  is  older  than  he  is, 
and  besides  she  is  just  on  the  eve  of  getting  a  proposition 
from  Jimmy  Billinger.  Goodness  knows  I  have  tried  hard 
enough  for  it.  If  the  little  wretch  should  back  out  now,  and 
carry  his  million  over  to  those  Brooklyn  people,  I  shall  be  ter 
ribly  disappointed.  You  need  not  look  so  disgusted.  You 
know  as  well  as  I  do  that  a  girl  like  Laura  can't  marry  at  all 
unless  she  marries  a  fortune.  The  miserable  hundred  thou 
sand  that  you  say  you  will  give  her  doesn't  permit  her  any  free 
dom  of  choice.  She's  got  to  marry,  if  she  marries  at  all,  a 
rich  man.  Society  will  have  it  so.  She  cannot  slink  out  of 
Society ;  give  up  all  her  tastes  and  habits  and  associations, 
and  live  without  sympathy  or  companionship,  or  else  live  with 
people  whose  manners  and  habits  she  detests,  and  who,  after 
all,  are  just  as  mercenary  and  mean  as  people  of  the  highest 
fashion.  I  know  it's  disgraceful  and  demoralizing,  and  all 
that,  but  what  is  the  use  of  mincing  matters  between  our 
selves.  I  tell  you  what,  I  am  so  utterly  tired  of  the  daily  lies 
and  shams  and  pretensions  that  fall  to  my  share  in  the  busi 
ness  of  life,  that  it  is  quite  refreshing  to  speak  the  truth  once 
in  a  while,  if  it  is  only  to  one's  husband." 

"Well,  my  dear,"  quietly  rejoined  Mr.  Ledgeral,  "I  don't 
suppose  you  have  come  here  to  convince  me  of  the  high  esti 
mate  which  the  world  and  society,  in  all  its  grades,  places 
upon  money." 

"  No,  indeed ;  I  have  wandered  away  from  my  real  sub 
ject.  I  came  to  tell  you  that  if  you  don't  look  out  for  that 
clerk  of  yours,  your  youngest  daughter  may  give  you  some 
trouble." 

"  What  ?     Helen  !     You  don't  mean  it  ?  " 


340 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


And,  as  usual  when  anything  agitated  him,  Mr.  Ledgeral 
started  from  his  seat  and  began  to  pace  up  and  clown  the 
room.  What  if  Helen  should  refuse  to  aid  him  in  certain 
vague  plans  which  had  been  floating  through  his  brain  ?  The 
young  Count  Isenthal  would  soon  arrive.  It  would  be  the 
duty  of  Mrs.  Ledgeral  to  entertain  him,  to  amuse  him,  to 
show  him  around,  and  no  one  could  certainly  do  it  better. 
He  would,  of  course,  be  a  great  deal  at  the  house,  if  he  did 
not  take  up  his  actual  residence  with  them.  A  travelling  trip 
might  be  arranged  for  Niagara  and  the  West.  Helen  would 
go  along — the  young  man  could  not  fail  to  be  charmed  \\ith 
her.  Mrs.  Ledgeral  would,  of  course,  favor  the  scheme,  and 
in  the  end,  if  events  came  to  the  worst  in  certain  pending 
affairs,  it  might  be  much  easier  settling  uncomfortable  busi 
ness  matters  with  a  son-in-law  than  with  an  outsider,  who 
would  have  no  special  interest  in  the  honor  of  the  family. 

Everything,  then,  depended  upon  Helen.  No  dependence 
could  be  placed  upon  Laura.  The  Count  never  would  fall  in 
love  with  her ;  but  with  Helen  there  was  some  chance.  She 
had  just  the  manners  to  suit  a  foreigner,  and  more  especially 
a  nobleman — and  the  training  and  education.  And  then  she 
had  sense  and  feeling ;  and  Mr.  Ledgeral  felt  that  he  him 
self  could  work  upon  her  affections,  and  make  her,  despite 
herself,  an  instrument  of  his  designs,  and  a  means  of  salvation 
at  least  from  open  disgrace.  He  turned  sharply  to  Mrs.  Ledg 
eral  with  the  question  :  "  What  ?  Helen  !  You  don't  mean 
it?" 

"  I  do  mean  it.  I  saw  it  the  night  he  was  first  wanted  to 
fill  up  a  quadrille  set.  I  know  she  had  been  reading  some 
poetry  of  his  in  the  Universe,  that  Mr.  Whoppers  had  given 
her.  Well,  there  was  nothing  in  that ;  but  I  overheard  her 
promise  to  let  him  see  some  verses  about  the  steam-boat  acci 
dent  which  she  had  written,  and  which  we  all  thought  so  clever 
for  one  so  young.  You  recollect  Professor  Dozer,  at  Madame 
Clangin's,  said  it  was  the  best  poetical  composition  written  in 
that  school.  Don't  you  recollect  he  paid  her  such  a  neat  lit 
tle  compliment  about  changing  her  name  from  Helen  to  Sap- 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


341 


pho,  and  Whoppers  would  have  published  them  if  I  had  con 
sented.  Well,  says  I  to  myself,  here  are  two  young  people 
talking  poetry,  and  both  make  verses,  and  instantly  it  struck 
me  that  the  young  man  was  the  sender  of  that  bunch  of  roses, 
with  some  lines,  that  Helen  got  a  long  time  ago,  before  you 
took  the  young  man  into  the  counting-house.  Don't  you  re 
collect  there  was  something  about  Moses  and  the  peak  of 
Pisgah,  which  you  used  to  plague  Helen  about  for  a  month 
afterwards  ?  Be  that  as  it  may,  I  made  sure  there  was  danger 
the  last  night  at  Aunt  Shippen's ;  so  when  his  name  was  pro 
posed  for  yesterday  evening  I  just  gave  a  positive  refusal.  I 
expected  Helen  to  persist,  or  at  least  to  sulk  a  little,  but  she 
did  neither.  She  merely  turned  off  as  if  it  was  not  of  the 
slightest  consequence  whether  he  was  invited  or  not." 

"  Well,  I  hope  that  relieved  your  mind,"  replied  Mr.  Ledg- 
eral. 

"Just  the  reverse,  my  dear.  I  began  at  once  to  grow  anx 
ious,  and  I  kept  my  eye  upon  her.  Well,  last  evening  there 
came  a  magnificent  bouquet  and  a  note.  Helen  opened  it, 
said  there  was  no  name,  and  slipped  the  note  into  her  bosom. 
I  did  not  say  anything  then,  because  the  Benxes  had  come. 
Those  people  always  do  come  so  early.  One  would  think 
they  might  stay  up  in  the  dressing-room  a  reasonable  time ; 
but  no,  down  they  went,  and  I  had  to  rush  down  the  back 
stairs  to  get  into  the  parlor  in  time  to  receive  them.  I  saw 
Helen  in  the  course  of  the  evening  slip  out  and  go  up  to  her 
room.  I  knew  it  was  to  read  her  letter ;  so  this  morning  I 
went  into  her  room  before  she  was  up.  I  saw  at  a  glance 
that  the  note  was  not  upon  her  dressing-table.  If  it  had  been 
I  should  have  felt  relieved,  and  perhaps  said  nothing  about  it. 
Said  I  :  '  Helen,  I  want  to  see  those  verses  you  got  with  the 
bouquet  last  night."  She  jumped  out  of  bed  with  the  key  in 
her  hand — I  believe  she  had  it  under  the  pillow — and  went 
and  opened  her  writing-desk — the  one,  you  know,  Uncle 
Shippen  gave  her — and  got  them  out  ;  and  as  she  did  so  I 
really  believe  her  hand  trembled,  and  that  she  blushed  a  little, 
but  I  can't  be  sure,  as  the  blinds  were  not  turned  open,  and 


342  NEVER  AGAIN. 

she  always  has  such  good  color.  Dear  me,  I  wish  Laura  had 
as  good  a  complexion,'  but  she  is  getting  as  sallow  as  can  be, 
and  Americans  are  such  geese,  it  won't  do  for  her  to  be  sus 
pected  of  rouging.  But  there  are  the  verses — poem,  the  fel 
low  calls  them — and  if  they  are  not  by  your  clerk,  Luther 
Lansdale,  I  don't  know  from  whence  they  can  come.  Read 
them,  and  see  if  you  don't  think  that,  if  they  come  from  him, 
there  is  more  than  meets  the  eye.  If  he  had  not  some  kind 
of  understanding  with  her  he  would  not  dare  address  her  in 
that  easy,  bantering  style.  I  wouldn't  mind  the  usual  senti 
ment  with  sighs,  and  darts,  and  hearts,  and  all  that  stuff.  It 
might  mean  nothing,  and  be  perhaps  all  on  one  side.  But 
there  is,  it  seems  to  me,  a  spice  of  loving  badinage  here  that 
makes  me  apprehend  trouble.  I  don't  like  to  have  a  clever, 
good-looking  young  fellow,  who  isn't  worth  a  dollar,  sending 
such  kind  of  verses  to  such  a  queer  girl  as  Helen." 

"  That  young  fellow  may  have  a  brilliant  future  before 
him,"  said  Mr.  Ledgeral,  slowly  nodding  his  head  ;  "  he's  one 
of  the  rising  kind." 

"  I  don't  care  ;  I  want  some  one  who  has  already  risen 
for  my  daughter.  I  want  some  one  who  has  his  future  in  his 
pocket,  even  if  he  hasn't  quite  so  much  brains  in  his  head. 
But  read  it,  and  see  what  you  think  of  it." 

"A  disguised  hand,  and  too  fine  for  my  eyes,"  said  Mr. 
Ledgeral,  resuming  his  seat.  "  Read  it  for  me ;  you  have 
mastered  the  writing,  and  can  do  the  poetry  justice." 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  at  all  difficult.  It  is  as  plain  as  fine  type," 
replied  the  lady,  as  she  opened  the  paper  and  began  to  read : 

"'JSy  Petrarchus. 
AD  VITAM  REDUX  SED  MORIBUNDUS.' 

. "  What  does  that  mean  ?  " 

"  It  means,"  replied  Mr.  Ledgeral,  "  Petrarch  led  back  to 
life,  but  dying." 

"  Oh,  ho  !  dying  again  for  the  love  of  Laura !  "  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Ledgeral.  "  I  wish  it  was  Laura  the  fellow  was  dying 


NEVER  AGAIN.  343 

for.     She'd  soon  send  him  to  the  right  about ;  but  Helen  is  so 
different ;  and  I  can't  trust  her  with  such  stuff  as  this : 

THE  ARGUMENT. — The  poem  opens,  after  a  motto  from  Propertius,  with 
an  objurgatory  allusion  to  bad  news — the  possibility  of  its  being 
true  questioned.  The  poet  becomes  classical  and  astronomical,  and 
invokes  the  planetary  gods  in  vain.  Appeals  to  Venus,  and  asks  her 
to  send  some  heavenly  express,  some  spiritual  penny-postman.  The 
inexorable  Parcae.  The  poet  becomes  still  more  astronomical — the 
Goddess  of  Love  defines  her  position,  or  rather  the  poet  does  it 
for  her.  She  waves  her  Cestus — a  curious  meteoric  phenomenon. 
Venus  sends  Chloris — the  Goddess  of  Flowers.  Chloris  enters,  and, 
for  the  sake  of  the  rhyme,  throws  her  flowers  on  the  floor  instead 
of  the  table.  She  suggests  a  magnetized  bouquet.  Chloris  becomes 
decidedly  complimentary,  but  not  more  so  than  the  subject  war 
rants.  The  poet  charges  Chloris  with  a  message : — he  makes  a  phys 
iological  supposition,  and  boasts,  somewhat  extensively,  of  what  he 
would  do  if  there  was  a  passage  from  the  nose  to  the  heart.  Chloris 
promises  to  deliver  the  message,  suggests  that  it  should  be  written, 
but  whether  on  perfumed  paper  or  not  the  poem  don't  say. 

I  would  not  envy  Linus  his  wide  fame, 

Nor  Orpheus  his  power  to  charm  Pieria's  trees 
.  And  call  from  Ismarus  wild  beasts  to  tame, 
If  only  Cynthia  my  strains  shall  please. 

— PROPERTIUS. 

"  What  say  you  ?     Heavens  !     It  can't, — it  shan't  be  so, — 

That  I,  to-night,  must  Helen's  smile  forego  ! 

O  Jupiter,  and  Juno,  Saturn,  Mars, 

Bright  Luna,  and  ye  hosUof  twinkling  stars, 

Help  !  help  !     You  won't?     Well  then,  O  gracious  Venus, 

Who — when  in  drink  or  love — hast  ever  seen  us 

With  pitying  eyes, 

Send  from  the  skies 

Some  messenger,  some  heavenly  go-between-us — 
Send  Cupid,  Iris,  Zephyr,  one  of  the  Muses, 
Or  else  that  wing'd-heeled  imp,  with  his  caduc'us, 
To  bear  to  Helen's  ear  my  best  excuses, 
And  say,  '  I  wish  to  come,  but  cruel  Fate  refuses, 
And  that  weak  man  must  do  as  stern  Lachesis  chooses.' " 

Smiled  Paphia,  sweetly,  from  her  astral  station, 
Far  down  the  Ecliptic  line, 
In  the  tenth  Zodiac  sign 


344 


NEVER  AGAIN. 

(She  ne'er  had  greater  southern  declination) ; 
And  starting  from  old  Capricornus'  breast, 
She  waved  the  zone  that  binds  her  purple  vest  ; 
When,  swiftly,  'long  the  Occident,  did  fly 
A  shower  of  gems  that  lighted  all  the  sky  : 
She  waved  the  zone,  and  smiled,  and,  to  my  prayer, 
Sent  Chloris — rosy  Chloris,  bright-eyed,  fair, — 
Her  with  the  plenteous  horn,  and  flower-twined  hair ; 
Who,  quickly  throwing  wide  my  chamber  door, 
Swept  in,  and  strewed,  all  over  on  the  floor, 
A  load  of  flowers  that  in  her  arms  she  bore. 

"  Come,  now,"  she  cried,  "  make  up  a  nice  bouquet, 
And,  while  you  make  it,  magnetize  it  o'er, 
Charge  it  with  sighs,  and  smiles,  and  tender  kisses. 
Then  will  I  bear  it  where  thy  hope  of  bliss  is — 
To  tuneful  Helen  I'll  it  swift  convey, 
To  her  who  knows — how  well ! — 
To  strike  the  sounding  shell, 
And  pour  her  full  soul  in  melodious  lay  ; 
To  her  whose  dulcet  rhyme, 
Framed  for  all  time, 
The  Aganippides  themselves  inspire : 
To  her,  in  whose  sweet  voice, 
The  listening  gods  rejoice  ; 
Whose  lips,  with  Hybla's  store, 
Are  sugared  o'er ; 

Whose  hands,  by  Musagetes  nerved  with  fire, 
Shall  draw  yet  nobler  chords  from  out  her  deep-toned  lyre.* 

"  And  tell  her,  Bride  of  Zephyrus,"  cried  I, 

"  Though  poor  this  gift,  if,  through  the  sense  of  smell, 
Her  heart  were  reachable,  that  I'd  compel, 

From  every  flower  that  grows, 

From  every  wind  that  blows, 

From  every  stream  that  flows, 

E'en  from  the  scentless  snows, 

Sweet  odors  for  her  nose  : 
To  hang  her  door  with  garlands  I  would  fly : 
With  nosegays  fill  her  area,  and,  in  hours 
Of  dark  midnight,  I'd  pile  her  stoop  with  flowers : 
Cut  off"  her  hydrant,  and,  in  place  of  Croton, 
Infuse  Patchouly — the  perfume  I  dote  on  : 
Bring  out  an  engine,  and  profusely  spatter — 

Whate'er  the  cost  no  matter — 


NEVER  AGAIN.  345 

Her  bed-room  windows  with  best  Persian  attar  : 

Waylay  her  in  the  streets, 

Rill  her  with  sweets  ; 
And  bury  her  beneath  such  heaps  of  roses, 
That,  if  she  had  ten  thousand  thousand  noses, 
She'd  cry, '  Enough  !  enough  !  take  off  your  posies — 
My  heart  was  icy,  but  it  now  un-froze  is  ! '  " 

"  I'll  tell  her,"  said  Chloris,  "  but,  perhaps  you'd  better 
Write  it  down  nicely,  and  send  it  in  a  letter." 

"  There  now  !  "  exclaimed  the  lady,  as  she  finished.  "  If 
that  had  come  from  Jimmy  Winthrop,  or  Bobby  Beekman,  or 
Georgy  Cutter,  or  Dickey  Buggies,  I  wouldn't  object  to  it,  and 
I  wouldn't  mind  it ;  but  I  know  it  isn't  from  either  of  them. 
Ham  Boggs,  or  Pete  Weddemall  might  have  written  it ;  but 
they  are  out  of  the  question." 

"  Is  there  no  one  else  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Ledgeral. 

"  No  one,  unless  it  might  be  Sammy  Gillesland,  or  Franky 
Dusenbury  ;  but  I  don't  think  it  is  either  of  them.  No,  it's 
that  Luther  Lansdale,  and  no  one  else." 

"  I  am  glad  to  see,"  said  Mr.  Ledgeral  in  a  testy  tone, 
"  that  you  can  give  one  young  man  his  full  name." 

"  Well,  I  admit,"  replied  the  lady,  "  that  the  fashion  of 
calling  gentlemen  by  the  diminutives  of  their  Christian  names 
is  absurd  ;  but  I  hear  the  girls  do  it  so  much  nowadays  that  I 
quite  forget  how  vulgar  it  is.  However,  about  this  Luther?" 

"  Well,  what  would  you  have  me  do  about  him  ?  "  demanded 
Mr.  Ledgeral. 

"  I  don't  know  ;  I  suppose  it  wouldn't  do  to  discharge  him 
at  once." 

"  How  would  that  help  the  matter  ?  Gainsby  says  that  he 
is  getting  to  be  perfectly  invaluable.  He  could  get  a  dozen 
situations  in  a  week.  Besides  Uncle  Shippen  wouldn't  like  it. 
He  has  taken  a  great  notion  to  the  fellow.  Do  you  know  I 
rather  think  that  Uncle  Shippen  would  favor  him  if  he  wished 
to  make  suit  to  Helen.  I  heard  the  old  man  say  to  Mr. 
Whoppers  the  other  day :  '  Why,  sir,  I  have  examined  him  , 
there  is  no  scrofula  about  him ;  never  had  any  consumption, 


346  NEVER  AGAIN. 

or  cancer,  or  insanity  in  his  family  ;  all  die  of  accidents,  acute 
diseases,  or  old  age.  Why,  sir,  he  had  a  great-grandfather 
that  lived  to  one  hundred  and  six,  and  then  died  of  too  much 
whiskey.  I  consider  him  a  match  for  the  bust  girl  in  town.  I 
should  be  proud  of  him  for  a  son-in-law.'  You  know,  my 
dear,  your  brother  is  half  mad  about  breeding  out  disease  and 
improving  the  human  race." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Ledgeral,  with  a  sigh ;  "  he  is  so 
queer.  There  is  no  doing  anything  with  him.  Well,  I  sup 
pose  we  can't  do  any  more  just  now.  However,  I  will  keep 
a  keen  look-out.  After  all  we  may  trust  to  Helen's  good 
sense.  She  is  not  a  girl  to  be  dictated  to,  and  she  don't  care 
half  as  much  about  dress  and  show  as  her  sisters,  but  still  she 
is  not  a  girl  to  make  a  fool  of  herself.  I  should  despair  of 
making  her  marry  a  rich  man  whom  she  did  not  like,  but  I 
should  feel  quite  confident  of  persuading  her  out  of  any  notion 
for  a  poor  one." 

"  You  are  taking  the  thing  very  seriously.  I  don't  see 
anything  to  be  alarmed  at.  A  young  man  sends  her  a  bou 
quet  with  some  absurd  verses — where  is  the  harm  in  that  ?  " 

Mr.  Ledgeral  spoke  testily,  almost  angrily,  for  at  heart  he 
was  more  disturbed  than  my  lady.  The  idea  of  Helen  taking 
a  fancy  for  any  young  man  just  at  that  time,  before  the  arrival 
of  Count  Isenthal,  interfered  with  the  first  faint  shadow  of  a 
plan  which  he  was  almost  unconsciously  forming  in  his  mind. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  perhaps  you're  right.  If  it  were  any  other 
young  man  I  should  not  mind  ;  but  somehow  I  am  afraid  of 
that  Luther.  One  thing,  however,"  said  Mrs.  Ledgeral, 
"  I  am  not  going  to  allow  any  more  invitations  to  be  sent  to 
Burling  Slip.  I  never  did  approve  of  that  kind  of  condescen 
sion  to  employes.  If  you  invite  the  whole  set  yuu  get  an 
awkward  squad.  If  you  invite  only  those  who  are  comme  il 
faut  in  dress  and  manner,  you  puff  them  up  and  offend  all  the 
rest.  There  is  no  use  in  it.  I  don't  care  if  it  is  a  tradition 
in  the  firm  or  the  family.  Traditions  must  end.  Nobody 
does  it  nowadays  ;  not  even  the  most  primitive  people.  I 
don't  suppose  one  of  Tibbit's  clerks  ever  entered  the  street 


NEVER  AGAIN.  347 

door,  and  catch  Mrs.  Hickson  inviting  one  of  her  husband's 
law  students  unless  he  was  a  good  society  young  man.  I 
won't  have  it  any  more.  I  don't  care  what  Uncle  Shippen 
and  Helen  say." 

A  tap  at  the  door,  and  Joseph  appeared  with  a  plateful  of 
letters.  Mrs.  Ledgeral  tobk  her  departure,  and  Mr.  Ledgeral, 
running  the  letters  over,  selected  one  post-marked  Hamburg, 
which  he  opened  with  a  trembling  hand. 

"  Good  heavens ! "  he  exclaimed,  starting  up  from  his 
chair.  "  So  soon  !  the  next  steamer  !  I  did  not  dream  of 
that.  Taken  passage  in  the  Hansa  !  Let's  see — she  has  not 
arrived  out  yet — she'll  be  due  here  in  about  three  weeks.  But 
what  is  three  weeks  in  such  a  strait  ?  Two  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  !  It  isn't  much.  It  wouldn't  have  been  anything 
two  years  ago  ;  but  that  first  half  million  played  the  devil. 
D— n  the  luck  !  " 

Mr.  Ledgeral  ground  his  teeth  and  gesticulated  violently. 

"  If  he  is  of  an  inquiring  turn,  and  presses  matters,  I  see 
nothing  but  a  perfect  smash  ;  in  fact,  if  he  should  get  into  the 
hands  of  some  of  those  sharks  I  am  not  sure  that  he  could 
not  drive  me  up  with  criminal  proceedings." 

The  idea  !  He  a  great  merchant ;  the  head  of  the  famous 
firm  of  Ledgeral,  Shippen  &  Co. ;  director  in  a  bank ;  presi 
dent  of  the  Society  for  the  Suppression  of  Juvenile  Delin 
quency  ;  vestryman  of  St.  Cyprian's,  and  husband  of  the  most 
fashionable  woman  in  town,  to  be  in  danger  of  criminal  pro 
ceedings  !  Who  in  the  world  would  imagine  that  a  man  of  his 
social  and  commercial  portliness  could  stand  in  such  a  tight 
place  ? 

Let  us  leave  Mr.  Ledgeral  to  his  meditations.  He  won't 
suffer  much  after  he  gets  down  town.  If  he  does  Delmonico's 
is  handy,  and  a  little  hot  Scotch  at  the  bar — though  that  is  not 
very  dignified,  and  must  be  swallo.vecl  with  rapidity,  as  a  mat 
ter  of  hurry  and  extreme  business  pressure — or  a  bottle  of 
Champagne  up  stairs,  always  relieves  one  very  much. 

Luckily,  he  has  many  exciting  matters  to  occupy  his  mind 
and  distract  his  attention  by  day — but  at  night — ah !  that  is 


348  NEVER  AGAIN. 

the  time  of  trial,  and  he  dreads  it.  Fear,  the  product  of  guilt, 
is  a  true  njght-plant  Like  some  of  those  gigantic  fungi  the 
botanists  tell  of,  it  springs  up  in  the  dark,  and  in  an  hour  of 
restless  tossing,  sudorific,  horripilating  wretchedness,  canopies 
our  bed  with  a  phantom  toad-stool  of  gigantic  size.  The  load 
that  the  conscience  can  jauntily  stigger  under  in  the  broad 
light  of  day,  amid  the  noise  and  bustle  of  the  street,  or  the 
crush  of  the  crowded  mart,  will,  in  the  gloom  and  silence  of 
the  night,  wear  its  bearer  to  his  knees.  In  those  wakeful 
watches  the  moral  sense  grows  doubly  keen,  and,  oh  horror ! 
the  deed  gilded  into  a  venial  glow  by  sun-light  assumes  its 
own  true  sombre  hue  of  damning  guilt.  What  can  be  more 
awful  than  the  thought  that,  perhaps,  the  darkness  that  comes 
of  death  may  likewise  instantly  clear  the  moral  sense  and  ex 
pose  all  the  moral  quality  of  our  actions,  freed  from  earthly 
glitter,  and  force  long-buried  memories  in  upon  the  quickened 
consciousness  of  the  disillusioned  soul  ?  The  sternest  ortho 
dox  Christian,  with  a  Calvinistic  turn  of  mind,  who  deems  that 
God's  justice  requires,  in  a  single  generation,  the  doom  of 
eternal  perdition  for  fourteen  hundred  millions  of  souls,  save 
a  couple  of  hundred  thousand  or  so  of  the  elect,  need  ask  t  >r 
no  better  form  or  mode  of  punishment  than  that 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

The  Count  has  come  ! — Social  Commotion — American  Freedoms — Helen 
and  the  Count — Helen  and  her  Father — A  terrible  Secret. 

IT  was  a  great  day  in  certain  circles  the  day  the  Hansa 
arrived.  Count  Isenthal  and  two  servants  !  What  can 
he  want  with  two  servants  ?  Why  the  Marquis  of  Hartcourt 
had  only  one  when  he  was  here.  But  there  it  was — Count 
Isenthal  and  two  servants  ! 

"Perhaps  one  is  his  cook,"  said  Mrs.  Struggles,  "and  he 
means  to  entertain  us  at  dinner." 

"  More  likely,"  said  Mr.  Whoppers,  "  the  Count  thinks 
that  we  don't  know  how  to  dish  sauer-kraut  and  sausages,  and 
has  brought  the  fellow  along  for  his  own  private  table." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  had  taken  rooms  for  the  Count  at  the  New 
York  Hotel  as  being  more  convenient.  It  wouldn't  do  to  let 
the  Count  wander  off  up  among  the  ravenous  beasts  of  prey 
in  the  Fifth  Avenue.  Unless  a  sharp  eye  was  kept  upon  him  he 
would  be  carried  off  bodily,  and  completely  monopolized. 
Now  the  Count  must  be  held  well  in  hand,  and  doled  out  in 
regulation  doses. 

The  very  first  day  Madame  D'Oberge  had  come  down 
upon  him  with  a  card  and  an  invitation  to  a  musicale,  and  Mrs. 
Adam  T.  Timmings  had  sent  an  invitation  to  dinner,  and  had 
even  gone  so  far  as  to  consult  Brown  about  the  propriety  and 
possibility  of  having  in  the  hall  of  her  little  twenty-five-foot 
house  half  a  dozen  men  in  full  armor,  with  flambeaux  to  light 
the  Count  up  stairs,  "  mediaeval  style,  you  know." 

"  Now  this  kind  of  thing,"  as  Mrs.  Ledgeral  emphatically 
said,  "  would  never,  never  do." 


35° 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


Mrs.  Struggles  called  at  once  at  the  Ledgerals.  She  saw 
the  Count,  and  was  introduced  to  him,  and  if  there  was  any 
astonishment  at  the  performance  it  was  not  felt  by  her.  It 
more  than  rivalled  in  intensity  of  kotou  the  style  of  a  great 
American  diplomat  in  the  presence  of  titled  celebrities,  while 
it  infinitely  excelled  all  his  awkward  and  angular  attempts  at 
genteel  flunkyism  in  the  way  of  grace. 

Mr.  Boggs  happened  to  be  present,  and  he  told  Mrs. 
Stichen  that  it  beat  anything  he  had  ever  seen  ;  "  and  I  have 
seen,"  said  he,  "  some  pretty  tall  specimens  of  American  '  fou- 
fou-ism  '  in  my  time.  I  recollect  seeing  Mrs.  Timmings  at  a 
small  party  at  Rome.  Somehow,  by  sheer  pluck  and  push, 
she  had  got  in,  and  was  figuring  in  a  cotillion  with  divers  and 
sundry  members  of  the  old  Roman  noblesse.  Well  I  never 
before  saw  any  one  dive  deeper,  stay  longer  under,  come  up 
in  a  bigger  flutter,  and  duck  again  quicker  ;  but  Mrs.  Struggles 
can  jump  off  of  the  same  plank  and  beat  her  two  to  one." 

Mrs.  Struggles,  however,  after  all,  did  the  right  thing.  She 
took  Mrs.  Ledgeral  aside  and  begged  the  use  of  the  Count  for 
one  matinee.  "  And  if  you  could,  my  dear  Carry," — Mrs. 
Struggles  had  advanced  from  Mrs.  Ledgeral  to  dear  Carry — 
"  if  you  could,  my  dear  Carry,  let  me  have  him,  say  about 
Thursday  of  next  week,  for  a  dinner  and  a  small  German 
after  it,  I  should  be  so  happy." 

"  I  don't  know,  my  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  Ledgeral ;  "  we 
shall  have  to  consult  the  Count ;  it  won't  do  to  neglect  his 
tastes  and  wishes  entirely.  But  I'll  see  what  I  can  do  for 
you.  I  think  I'll  get  you  the  dinner  at  least;  but  you  must 
give  Delmonico  carte  blanche;  particularly  in  the  wine.  Boggs 
says  that  the  last  time  he  dined  with  you  your  Champagne  had 
a  smack  of  Yvorn,  and  your  cutlets,  d  la  proven<;ale,  were  noth 
ing  but  tough  mutton-chops,  with  a  little  potato  sauce  over 
them.  And  mind  you,  my  dear,  I  won't  have  any  of  that 
Pushton  set." 

Happily  the  Count  knew  nothing  of  the  schemes  and  in 
trigues  of  which  he,  or  rather  his  title,  was  the  object.  He 
was  disposed  to  be  affable  and  generally  agreeable.  He  had 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


351 


come  out  to  see  the  country  and  to  study  the  manners  and 
customs  of  an  energetic,  practical,  thriving,  but  utterly  uncul 
tured,  unassthetic,  semi-barbarous  people.  Of  course,  in  his 
own  country,  he  had  not  the  least  idea  of  associating,  except 
occasionally,  upon  terms  of  acknowledged  superiority,  with 
bankers,  merchants,  and  professional  men.  But  in  Rome  one 
must  do  as  the  Romans  do  ;  and,  after  all,  what  can  you  have 
better  than  the  best.  The  Americans  are,  perhaps,  not  to 
blame  for  having  no  established  aristocracy ;  besides  it  is 
possible  that  there  are  classes  and  sets  in  society  at  large 
where  the  division  is  too  fine  for  ordinary  observation.  The 
Count  was  of  a  philosophic  turn  ;  he  would  inquire  into  that. 
There  might  perhaps  be  found,  even  in  democratic  America, 
something  to  appease  the  ingrained  prejudice  of  German  junk- 
erism. 

One  thing,  more  than  anything  else,  had  tended  to  awaken 
this  prejudice  in  the  Count,  and  to  lower  American  society 
in  his  eyes,  and  that  was  the  facility  with  which  certain  of 
his  countrymen  assumed  prominent  social  positions,  who,  at 
home,  would  stand  about  as  much  chance  of  figuring  in  the 
best  society  as  they  would  of  soaring  to  the  moon.  The 
Count  was  ignorant  that  the  same  thing  takes  place  with 
Americans  abroad.  He  did  not  know  that  hundreds  of  push 
ing,  unscrupulous,  underbred  representatives  of  the  Great  Re 
public,  with  manners  perhaps  stereotyped  by  a  few  dips  into 
the  fashionable  life  of  hotels  and  boarding-houses,  but  so 
thinly  coated  that  the  native  brass  and  pewter  shines  through 
upon  the  slightest  social  friction — he  did  not  know  that  hun 
dreds  of  such  people  abroad  enjoy  a  position  which  they  could 
never  achieve  at  home,  and  that  many  of  them  really  do  mount 
into  the  seventh  heaven  of  republican  enjoyment — into  the 
company  of  the  fashionably  just,made  perfect — into  the  crowd 
of  blessed  titled  people  who  have  nothing  to  do  but  sit  all  day 
long  with  coronets  upon  their  heads,  singing  praises  to  the 
great  ineffable  BOSH. 

But  all  this  deep-seated  contempt  for  American  society 
was  more  than  counterbalanced  by  the  profound  respect,  com- 


352  NEVER  AGAIN 

mon  to  most  Germans  of  the  upper  or  educated  classes,  for 
the  practicality  of  the  American  people.  Why,  they  are  a  more 
practical  people  than  the  English,  and  the  Germans  have  long 
sighed  with  secret  envy  of  them.  No  sooner  is  a  theory 
started,  or  a  principle  of  science  discovered,  than  the  Ameri 
cans  seize  it  and  try  to  turn  it  to  practical  account — get  some 
thing  out  of  it — money,  comfort,  some  kind  of  utility.  Of  course 
^this  is  not  a  very  lofty  national  characteristic  ;  of  course  the 
Americans  have  no  real  culture ;  they  have  no  solid  learning ; 
no  accurate  scholarship  ;  no  profound  thinking  ;  no  assthetical 
development ;  no  depth  in  anything.  It  is  all  hurry-scurry, 
slap-dash  ;  cut  down  woods,  run  up  cities,  start  churches,  make 
laws,  build  steamboats,  and  telegraphs,  and  mowing-machines, 
and  sewing-machines  ;  all  of  which  are  really  German  inven 
tions,  and  with  every  turn  or  twist  grind  out  dollars.  Now 
the  German  has  in  his  heart  the  wish  to  do  so  likewise.  He 
longs  to  show  that  he  is  not  merely  the  learned  dreamer  that 
people  take  him  for  ;  that  if  he  has  the  chance  and  the  room 
— that  is,  if  he  can  only  extend  himself  a  little  ;  say,  for  in 
stance,  somewhat  more  firmly  on  the  Adriatic  and  the  North 
Sea,  and  a  good  deal  more  squarely  upon  the  German  Ocean — 
he  can  develop  a  practical  spirit  equal  to  that  of  any  nation ; 
can  become  as  aggressive,  as  pushing,  as  realistic  as  an  Amer 
ican  or  an  Englishman  ;  and  that  ships,  colonies,  and  com 
merce  would  prevent  the  swallowing  up  of  his  surplus  popu 
lation  by  English-speaking  people,  and  the  consequent  rapid 
spread  of  the  English  tongue,  which,  more  than  anything  else, 
to  many  Germans,  is  an  object  of  avowed  envy. 

Physically,  the  young  Count  was  a  Teuton  of  the  yellow- 
haired  type,  even  to  his  long  straggling  whiskers  and  mous 
tache.  Blue  eyes,  and  a  complexion  to  match,  and  a  lanky 
form  with  big  hands  and  feet,  made  up  his  claims  to  manly 
beauty.  There  was,  however,  a  certain  style  ;  a  hodge-podge 
of  ease  and  awkwardness,  of  simplicity  and  pretension,  which, 
precluding  anything  like  elegance,  and  far  removed  from  the 
Yankee  ideal  of  aristocratic  manner,  was  nevertheless,  in  it 
self,  rather  effective,  especially  as  he  was  unquestionably  a 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


353 


real  Count,  and  rich  at  that,  which  was  a  merit  that  few  other 
German  Counts  or  Barons,  genuine  or  bogus,  visiting  America, 
had  ever  possessed.  He  was  well  educated,  talked  well,  spoke 
English  nicely,  touched  the  piano  delicately,  and  managed 
about  five  notes  of  a  tenor  voice  skilfully.  He  was,  in  fact, 
ein  Mann  von  Geist. 

He  was  also,  clearly,  a  young  man  who  had  a  proper  and 
prudent  regard  for  the  great  business  of  making  or  saving 
money,  and  getting  as  big  an  interest  upon  what  he  had  as 
could  be  done  without  too  great  a  risk  of  the  principal.  In 
other  words,  he  had  in  him  the  makings  of  a  cautious  specu 
lator.  It  needed  but  a  knowledge  of  this  trait  to  make  him  a 
most  interesting  character  in  New  York  society ;  but  not  even 
Mr.  Ledgeral  knew  that  almost  the  first  thing  he  did  upon 
landing  was  to  make  some  quiet  inquiries  as  to  the  financial 
standing  of  the  great  merchant,  and  the  estimation  in  which 
certain  securities  were  held  in  the  market.  Nothing  could 
be  more  satisfactory  than  the  answers  :  "  Mr.  Ledgeral  was  a 
safe  man  if  there  was  one  to  be  found  in  the  world ;  not  so 
rich,  of  course,  as  Astor,  or  Yanderbilt,  or  Stewart,  but  just 
as  good,  and  the  securities  were  fully  as  safe  as  United  States 
bonds,  and  those,  you  know,  are  better  than  Consols,  because 
they  are  sure  to  be  paid."  There  was  no  necessity,  therefore, 
for  going  into  business  matters  at  once.  He  could  give  him 
self  up  to  the  festivities  of  the  day  ;  dance  and  sing  and  flirt 
with  the  girls,  who,  in  general,  can  do  all  three  with  more 
spirit  and  style  than  either  the  slow  and  simple-minded  maid 
ens  of  Fatherland,  or  the  speedy  but  rather  ponderous  belles 
of  the  British  Isles.  The  mother-and-governess-ridden  demoi 
selles  of  France  are,  of  course,  nowhere  in  such  a  compari 
son,  and  the  only  rival  an  American  girl  need  fear  is  the  fully 
emancipated  married  Parisienne. 

The  Count  was  charmed.  The  opera  season  happened  to 
be  brilliant,  and  a  spirited  rivalry  in  the  theatres.  The  drives 
and  rides  in  the  Central  Park  he  thought  delightful ;  and  then 
there  was  every  day  somewhere  for  dinner  terappin,  prairie 
hen,  and  canvas-back,  with  better  Champagne,  and  more  of  it, 
23 


354  NEVER  AGAIN. 

than  he  had  ever  drunk  before.  And  then  the  oysters  !  Well, 
the  Count  agreed  in  opinion  with  the  late  Karl  of  Carlisle  that, 
for  an  ante-prandial  whet,  the  Imperial,  the  Ostend,  the  Na 
tive,  do  pretty  well ;  but  that  for  solid  enjoyment,  in  a  hun 
dred  forms — rising,  at  times,  to  the  highest  pitch  of  bivalvu- 
late  ecstasy — you  must  go  the  Blue-Pointers,  the  Chingorora's, 
the  East  Rivers,  to  the  tiny  crustacean  of  Massachusetts,  or 
the  fat,  pungent,  golden-hued  mollusk  of  Shrewsbury  Inlet. 
But  it  was  not  alone  in  the  question  of  oysters  that  the  Count 
showed  his  good  judgment  and  taste. 

The  superiority  of  Helen  Ledgeral  in  general  cultivation 
and  in  manner  to  her  sister,  and  to  girls  of  her  own  set,  struck 
him  strangely  and  strongly,  and,  while  eliciting  his  warmest 
admiration,  exercised  his  philosophic  insight,  and  gave  him  a 
very  agreeable  object  of  profound  study. 

Unluckily,  the  Count  was  ignorant  of  some  of  the  condi 
tions  of  the  problem.  The  influence  of  Aunt  and  Uncle 
Shippen  was  a  quantity  without  which  he  couldn't  well  work 
out  his  equation,  and  which,  on  so  short  an  acquaintance,  he 
could  hardly  suspect.  That  she  had  better  training  than  gen 
erally  falls  to  the  lot  of  American  girlhood  was  evident ;  but 
how  could  he  know  that  she  had  been  subjected  to  the  close 
supervision  of  a  sensible,  practical  woman  of  the  world — a 
fashionable  woman,  it  is  true — but  a  born  and  bred  fashiona 
ble  woman,  whose  one  look  on  humanity  was  thus  not  neces 
sarily  limited  to  the  narrow  confines  of  her  set. 

"  Whence  comes  it  "  exclaimed  the  Count,  "  that  this  girl 
has  by  so  much,  of  superiority  to  any  of  her  sex  that  I  have  yet 
seen  ?  Why  do  I  look  at  her  with  an  eye  so  deeply  curious  ? 
Why  do  I  begin  to  consider  her  with  a  mind  so  profoundly 
inquiring  ?  Is  it  that  I  commence  to  see  in  her — not  her,  but 
an  eidolin  of  passion,  and  that  it  is  my  imagination  that  effulges 
the  light  that  crowns  her  brow  ?  No,  no  ;  I  am  cool,  I  am 
unimpassioned  ;  I  am  not  in  love  ;  I  see  her  and  not  an  eikon. 
What  efficient  cause,  then,  upheaves  her  above  the  plane  of 
American  common-place  into  the  region  of  the  universal 
ideal  ?  I  will  question  her." 


NEVER  AGAIN.  355 

The  next  morning  the  Count  called  at  Washington  square 
at  an  early  hour — too  early  an  hour,  for  the  ladies  were  still 
in  high  conclave  with  a  priestess  of  the  modes.  Helen,  as 
being  the  only  one  disengaged  at  the  moment,  had  to  go  down 
to  entertain  him  until  her  sister  and  mother  should  be  able  to 
descend. 

"  Hurry  down  as  soon  as  possible,  mamma.  I  can't  un 
dertake  your  high-born  Herr  more  than  ten  or  fifteen  min 
utes,"  and  Helen  closed  the  chamber  door  and  rushed  to  the 
head  of  the  stairs  at  a  most  undignified  and  unladylike  pace. 
A  passing  stroke  of  the  hand,  and  a  dexterous  circular  sweep 
of  the  foot,  sufficed  for  adjusting  her  plumage,  as  she  flew 
down  the  staircase,  her  feet  barely  brushing  the  steps,  and 
alighted  with  a  little  bound  in  the  hall. 

Old  Joseph  put  his  head  out  of  his  den. 

"What's  dat?  Oh,  Miss  Helen,  I  tought  you  ben  gone 
and  sliding  down  de  banisters  agin." 

"  Agin,  you  old  goose,  you  !  When  did  I  ever  slide  down 
the  banisters  ? " 

"  Well,  den,  you  mussen  do  it  now,  I  tell  you,  cause  you 
see  what  it  is ;  you  break  someting  sometime,"  and  the  old 
man  threw  open  the  parlor  door. 

"  Ki !  "  he  exclaimed  to  himself  with  a  grin,  "  can't  she 
go  up  and  down  stairs  jiss  like  a  streak  of  lightnum.  Don't 
have  to  kind  of  drag  up  and  settle  down,  like  some  ob  de 
young  ones  dat  come  here.  But  I  don't  want  she  should 
break  someting ;  sprain  her  oncle,  or  dilumcate  her  instep, 
and  have  to  scuffle  round  all  de  rest  of  her  life.  I  must  look 
out  for  dat." 

The  Count  had  seen  a  good  many  things  curious  and 
strange  in  America,  but  perhaps  nothing  more  strange  than 
that  freedom  of  manner  which  permits  a  young  unmarried  fe 
male  to  receive  and  entertain  alone  a  male  visitor.  A  viola 
tion  of  all  the  proprieties,  a  horrible  and  dangerous  license  he 
was  at  first  disposed  to  consider  it,  but  his  views  had  been 
somewhat  modified  in  a  discussion  of  the  subject  with  Mr. 
Boggs. 


356  NEVER  AGAIX. 

"  You  see,  Count,  '  propriety  '  is  a  mere  relative  term  ; 
what  is  proper  in  one  place  is  not  proper  in  another.  Among 
some  of  the  politest  and  best-mannered  nations  of  the  world, 
a  man  expresses  respect  by  taking  his  shoes  off  and  keeping 
his  head  covered — but  let  a  fellow  here  come  into  a  drawing- 
room  barefoot,  and  with  his  hat  on,  eh  !  Now,  whenever  any 
one  is  doing  something,  however  shocking  it  may  be  to  others, 
which  does  not  seem  improper  to  the  doer,  it  does  not  neces 
sarily  imply  any  demoralization.  A  French  girl,  in  the  case 
we  have  mentioned,  would  think  that  she  was  doing  some 
thing  very  wrong ;  and  the  gentleman  would  think  so  too,  and 
fancy  himself  excusable  in  taking  any  advantage  of  the  con 
scious  and  intentional  indelicacy." 

"  I  see,"  said  the  Count.  "  The  stranger  has  a  right  to 
criticise  a  custom  in  the  abstract,  but  he  must  not  jump  too 
rapidly  to  conclusions  as  to  mental  and  moral  conditions 
which,  in  his  own  country,  would  be  perfectly  legitimate  from 
similar  premises." 

"  Precisely,"  replied  Mr.  Boggs  ;  "  a  good  illustration  may 
be  seen  in  the  difference  on  certain  points  between  the  two 
sexes.  A  gentleman,  you  know,  may  smoke,  chew,  drink,  and 
swear — that  is,  within  bounds — without  absolutely  losing  his 
character  of  gentleman — without  completely  dropping  all  self- 
respect.  But  it  is  not  so  with  women,  even  in  this  country ; 
at  least  not  as  yet.  If  a  lady,  with  us,  should  openly  indulge 
in  drinking,  chewing,  smoking,  and  swearing,  she  would  lose 
caste  ;  she  would  feel  that  she  was  doing  wrong,  doing  some 
thing  not  warranted  by  fashion.  She  would  consequently 
lose  all  self-respect,  perhaps  lose  all  control  of  herself,  and 
go  from  bad  to  worse.  But  in  time  ajl  this  may  change. 
Women's  Rights  are  making  such  progress  that  the  change 
may  come  very  soon,  and  women  be  elevated  to  all  the  privi 
leges  of  the  male  sex.  And  when  that  time  arrives  it  would 
be  a  great  mistake  in  a  stranger  to  argue,  because  a  lady 
regularly  takes  her  eleven  o'clock  bitters,  or  blows  a  weed  as 
she  gapes  out  of  the  windows  of  Sorosis,  or  interlards  her 
conversation  with  a  few  mild  oaths,  that  she  is  not  a  lady,  or 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


357 


that  there  is  anything  really  wrong  about  her.  You  see  the 
point,  don't  you  ? " 

"  I  do,"  replied  the  Count.  And  thus  corrected  and  in 
structed  by  the  philosophic  Boggs,  it  was  with  nothing  but  a 
sentiment  of  pure  pleasure  that  he  saw  Helen  enter  the  room 
alone. 

The  usual  society  chit-chat  at  first,  and  soon  the  conversa 
tion  wandered  away  from  the  region  of  personalities  into  the 
wider  fields  of  literature  and  art.  The  Count  got  so  much 
interested  that,  for  the  moment,  he  forgot  to  push  his  perqui 
sitions  in  the  direction  he  intended.  Suddenly  he  bethought 
himself  of  the  inquiries  he  wanted  to  make. 

"  Why,  Miss  Helen  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  do  you  know  we 
have  been  talking  ten  minutes  without  one  bit.  of  gossip — 
without  any  of  that  miserable,  personal  twaddle  which  makes 
up  so  much  of  the  conversation  of  society." 

"  Oh,  you  must  not  abuse  society  for  indulging  so  much  in 
personal  gossip.  It  has  its  uses  and  its  utilities.  It  fills  an 
office  that  no  other  kind  of  conversation  could." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  Mr.  Boggs  explained  it  all  to  me  one  day.  He 
says  that  it  is  absurd  to  denounce  it  as  an  evidence  of  the  stu 
pidity  of  society.  Very  clever  people  indulge  in  it  from  a  natural 
curiosity  about  persons  rather  than  things,  which  is  the  founda 
tion  and  essence  of  all  history.  But  beyond  this,  Mr.  Boggs  says 
that  personal  gossip  is  of  the  greatest  utility  as  a  kind  of  shib 
boleth.  Society  is  nothing  without  exclusiveness.  Now,  if 
you  are  exclusive  you  must  exclude  somebody,  and  we  have 
no  artificial  lines  drawn  for  us  as  you  have  in  Europe.  There 
is  needed  some  test,  and  society  instinctively  turns  to  and  en 
courages  personal  gossip,  the  knowledge  of '  who's  who,'  as  a 
kind  of  safeguard  against  invasion." 

"  Well,  your  friend,  Mr.  Boggs,  is  a  very  clever  man,"  said 
the  Count ;  "  I  perceive  that  he  can  find  a  reason  and  an  ex 
cuse  for  almost  anything.  But  I  should  like  to  ask  you  one 
question.  Why  is  it  that  Miss  Helen  Ledgeral  indulges  in  it 
so  little?" 


35 8  NEVER  AGAIN. 

It  was  the  look  and  tone,  rather  than  the  words,  that  made 
Helen  color  up  at  the  Count's  question. 

"  Why  is  it,"  continued  the  Count,  "  that  Miss  Helen 
Leclgeral  always  excites  a  disposition  to  talk  and  think  of 
other  subjects  than  the  little  miserable— -pardon  the  epithets, 
but  I  will  repeat  them — the  little  miserable  personal  twaddle 
which,  I  must  say,  makes  up  more  of  the  staple  of  conversa 
tion  here  than  in  any  set  or  circle  it  has  hitherto  been  my  for 
tune  to  fall  into  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  thank  you,  Count,  for  the  implied  compliment.  I 
only  wish  I  deserved  it ;  but — "  and  with  feminine  art  Helen 
dodges  out  of  the  dangerous  corner — "  we  were  talking  of 
Goethe  ;  you  know  his  minor  poems  ?  Do  you  recollect  the 
cathedral  window,  and  how  truly  he  presents  it  as  an  emblem 
of  poesy.  I  remember  a  verse  or  two  in  the  translation.  You 
can  see  how  they  sound  in  English,"  and  Helen  repeated  the 
lines : — 

"  '  Look  on  it  from  the  outer  square, 
And  it  is  only  dark  and  dreary  ; 
Yon  blockhead  always  views  it  there, 
And  swears  its  aspect  makes  him  weary. 

" '  But  enter  once  the  holy  portal — 

What  splendor  bursts  upon  the  eye  ! 
There  symbols,  deeds,  and  forms  immortal, 
Are  blazing  forth  in  majesty.'" 

"  Oh,  I  understand,  Miss  Helen  !  "  exclaimed  the  Count. 
"  You  mean  to  say  that  you  have  accustomed  yourself  to  look 
at  the  windows  from  the  inside.  I  understand." 

Helen's  laughing  protest  was  cut  short  by  the  entrance  of 
her  mother  and  sister. 

"Where  are  you  going,  my  dear?"  demanded  Mrs. 
Ledgeral,  as  Helen,  wishing  to  disclaim  any  share  in  the 
Count's  visit,  was  gliding  through  the  open  door  into  (lie 
back  parlor. 

Thus  addressed,  she  was  compelled  to  take  a  more  formal 
leave ;  she  replied  "  that  she  was  going  at  once  to  Aunt  Ship- 


NEVER  AGAIN.  359 

pen's — that  she  had  promised  her  aunt  to  be  with  her  early  in 
the  day." 

And  making  her  parting  salutations  to  the  Count,  who  rose 
to  open  the  door,  she  stepped  into  the  hall,  just  in  time  to  en 
counter  her  father,  who  was  coming  out  from  his  study. 

"  Helen,"  said  Mr.  Ledgeral  as  he  stood  in  a  hesitating 
attitude  with  his  hand  upon  the  door.  "  Helen,  I  want  to  see 
you  for  a  minute,  and  it  may  as  well  be  now  as  any  other 
time.  You  are  disengaged  ?  " 

Struck  with  a  certain  hollow  cadence  in  his  voice,  Helen 
started  and  looked  around,  and  for  the  first  time  noticed  the 
very  great  change  that  had  taken  place  in  his  face  and  figure. 
She  had  known  for  several  weeks  that  he  had  not  been  looking 
quite  as  well  as  usual,  but  as  he  had  made  no  complaints,  and 
had  repelled  all  sympathizing  inquiry  or  remark,  and  had  even 
at  the  dinner-table  testily  rejected,  or  rather  resented  a  sug 
gestion  of  Mrs.  Ledgeral's,  that  he  should  send  for  Dr.  Pet- 
kaff,  she  had  supposed  that  it  was  some  passing  ailment ;  or 
nothing  more  than  the  wear  and  tear  of  an  exciting  business 
season.  Now  the  change  came  upon  her  at  one  glance  with 
startling  suddenness. 

She  saw  her  father  standing  in  the  doorway,  and  almost 
leaning  against  the  side,  as  if  for  support.  His  clothes, 
usually  fitting  so  nicely,  and  carried  so  jauntily,  seemed  to 
hang  upon  him,  if  not  in  decided  folds,  at  least  in  slight  down 
ward  curves,  that  hinted  of  a  shrunken  form  within.  His 
cheeks  had  not  fallen  away  so  much,  but  their  healthy  hue  had 
disappeared.  In  place  of  solid  flesh  there  was  a  growing 
puffiness  ;  and  in  place  of  the  clear  red  and  white  complexion, 
there  was  the  thick  muddy  tint  that  comes  when  care  and  fear 
govern  all  the  movements  of  the  heart,  and  send  out  with  its 
every  pulsation  an  unhealthy  current  of  half-oxygenated,  bile- 
laden  blood. 

"What  is  it,  father?"  exclaimed  Helen,  as  she  rushed 
across  the  hall,  and  seized  her  father's  hand.  "  Why,  how 
cold  your  hand  is,  and  it  trembles  too.  You  are  not  well ! 
What  is  the  matter  ? " 


360  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"  Hush,  my  daughter  !  You  will  disturb  them  in  the  par 
lor.  I  am  well  enough.  You  need  not  fear  for  me,  but  I  ad 
mit  1  have  some  troubles,  some  cares,"  and  Mr.  Ledgeral  led 
his  daughter  into  the  study  and  closed  the  door. 

"  Troubles  !  "  exclaimed  Helen,  "  and  I  can1!  help  you  ! 
I  can  do  nothing  for  you — you — " 

"  I  don't  know,  my  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Ledgeral  as  he  drew 
Helen  down  to  the  sofa  at  his  side.  "  I  don't  know  ;  perhaps 
the  time  may  come ;  but  not  now  ;  some  other  time  :  sooner 
than  we  think  perhaps.  But  now  I  want  to  say  a  word  about 
yourself.  What  is  this  that  I  hear  from  your  mother  about  a 
bouquet  and  verses  ?  " 

Helen  laughed,  quite  innocently,  but  she  could  not  prevent 
the  tell-tale  blood  from  momentarily  deepening  the  delicate 
tinge  of  her  complexion. 

"  Y~ou  mean  the  last  that  I  have  received — the  one  that 
came  last  night  ? " 

"  Why,  have  you  received  more  than  one  ?  " 

"  Bouquets  ?  oh  yes,  mamma  could  have  told  you  that  I 
have  received  a  great  many.  Mamma  takes  a  great  interest 
in  my  bouquets.  She  is  quite  proud  of  the  quantity.  Why, 
they  come  pouring  in  sometimes  by  the  dozen." 

"  And  verses  with  them  ? " 

"  Oh,  not  always." 

"Well,  we  will  stick  to  the  one  with  the  verses  that  came 
last  evening.  I  suppose  you  know  where  it  came  from  ?  " 

"  How  could  I,  papa  ?     It  was  anonymous." 

"  Well,  if  you  don't  know  I  will  tell  you.  It  was  from 
Luther  Lansdale.  Don't  you  think  I  am  right  ? " 

Helen  laughed  quite  heartily.  "  Why,  papa,  I  did  not 
dream  that  you  were  so  good  at  guessing." 

"  You  admit  it  then  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so.  You  see  mamma  would  not  invite  him,  so, 
to  revenge  himself,  he  sends  me  these  absurd  verses.  They 
are  rather  clever,  don't  you  think  ?  I  recollect  you  said  a  long 
time  ago  that  something  he  had  written  for  the  Universe 
evinced  decided  literary  ability." 


NEVER  AGAIN.  361 

"  That  may  be,  my  dear  ;  but  that  is  nothing  to  the  point. 
I  am  willing  to  admit  that  he  is  clever,  well-mannered  and 
good-looking,  and  he  is  certainly  capable  and  attentive  as  a 
clerk,  but  all  that  won't  excuse  impertinence." 

"  Impertinence  ?     Father  !  " 

"Well,  perhaps  not  impertinence,  for  I  suppose  the  young 
man  has  some  warrant  for  writing  to  you  in  the  verses  you 
have  given  him  in  return,  for  I  take  it  for  granted  you  have 
together  discussed  some  of  your  own  scribblings.  Oh,  you 
need  not  turn  away  your  head  ;  I  am  not  going  to  ask  you  if 
it  is  so  or  not.  I  will  take  back  the  word  impertinence,  and 
substitute  the  word  presumption.  Yes,  presumption,  down 
right  idiotic  presumption." 

"  Oh,  papa,  that  word  is  fully  as  bad  as  the  other.  I  don't 
see  how  it  applies  any  better  ;  Mr.  Lansdale  sends  me  a  bou 
quet  :  but  that  is  nothing  ;  all  the  young  men  send  all  the 
girls  bouquets  nowadays  ;  it  is  the  fashion.  Now  why  should 
it  be  presumption  in  Luther,  Mr.  Lansdale,  I  mean,  to  send 
me  one  ?  you  know  he  thinks  he  is  under  great  obligations  to 
me  for  getting  him  his  present  position,  and  you  don't  think  it 
presumption  to  express  his  gratitude,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Gratitude  !  "  and  Mr.  Ledgeral  roused  himself  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  shook  off  his  subdued  and  languid  manner.  Pass 
ing  his  hand  caressingly  over  the  wealth  of  curls  that  made  a 
chignon  superfluous,  he  gave  his  daughter  a  penetrating  look 
in  which  sparkled  an  arch  vivacity  to  which  Helen  had  for 
merly  been  no  stranger,  but  which  she  had  not  seen  in  his 
eyes  for  months. 

"  Gratitude  !  what  a  precious  little  goose  it  is,  thinking  that 
she  can  humbug  her  old  father  so  easily  !  gratitude !  no,  I 
don't  object  to  the  young  man's  expressing  his  gratitude,  but 
I  very  much  object  to  his  making  love." 

"Oh,  father!  How  can  you  suppose,  how  can  you 
think—" 

"  Gently,  my  dear ;  don't  get  excited,  and  I  will  tell  you, 
not  only  what  I  think,  but  what  I  know.  The  ordinary  little 
attentions  and  gallantries  of  society  may  mean  nothing,  in 


362  NEVER  AGAIN. 

fact  they  generally  do  mean  nothing  ;  a  young  lady  may  re 
ceive  any  quantity  of  flowers  from  a  young  gentleman  of  her 
set  without  seeing  in  them  anything  more  than  a  very  pretty 
compliment  which,  perhaps,  she  but  shares  with  others, — 
without  having  any  right  to  draw  conclusions  more  weighty 
than  that  the  young  man,  having  more  money  than  brains, 
has  ambition  to  be  thought  aux petits  soins  in  some  fashionable 
quarter,  and  makes  the  flowers  express  a  compliment  he 
would  find  it  difficult  to  turn  in  words ;  or  that  he  finds  him 
self  in  unexpected  credit  with  some  incautious  florist,  and 
must  jump  at  any  excuse  to  improve  the  opportunity  of  run 
ning  in  debt ;  or  that  his  uncle  in  the  country,  who  cares 
nothing  for  flowers,  keeps  up  a  conservatory,  and  he  thinks  it 
a  pity  to  waste  the  chance  of  utilizing  the  clippings.  But  in 
this  matter  of  Luther  Lansdale  the  thing  is  very  different  ;  the 
affair  is  much  more  serious.  I  will  not  stop  now  to  say  why, 
and  in  what  manner  it  is  more  serious.  You  understand  what 
I  would  say  as  well  as  if  I  had  spoken  it.  In  him  it  means 
downright  love-making  ;  and  in  him  it  means  also,  considering 
all  the  circumstances,  downright  presumption  if  not  something 
worse — I  won't  say  a  want  of  common  honesty,  but  I  will  say 
a  want  of  correct  feeling." 

"Oh,  papa  !  "  exclaimed  Helen,  "you  are  too  hard  upon 
the  poor  young  man  !  I  am  sure  he  has  a  great  deal  of  ex 
cellent  feeling." 

"  I  did  not  say  excellent  feeling,"  dryly  replied  Mr.  Ledg- 
eral.  "  I've  no  doubt  that  he  has  plenty  of  it,  and  he  has  a 
pretty  good  excuse  for  it  too,"  and  Mr.  Ledgeral  again  laid 
his  hand  upon  Helen's  curls,  "  but  he  knows  that  nothing  can 
come  of  it ;  that  he  is  not  in  a  condition  to  make  love  in 
earnest,  and  with  a  purpose  ;  that  he  can  advance  no  proper 
pretensions  to  your  favor  ;  that  he  has  nothing  to  offer  a  girl 
brought  up  in  fashionable  life,  and  in  habits  of  luxury  and  ele 
gance,  but  his  good  looks,  good  manners,  and  a  salary  of  fif 
teen  hundred  a  year." 

Helen  tapped  her  little  foot  upon  the  carpet,  and  screwed 
up  her  month  into  an  expression  mutine. 


NEVER   AGAIN.  363 

"  Is  he  always  going  to  be  so  poor  ?  "  she  demanded.  "  I 
thought  that  in  this  country  some  of  our  richest  men  com 
menced  by  being  poor,  and  that  a  youth  of  industry  and 
energy,  and  knowledge,  and  talent,  and  ambition,  was  the  best 
foundation  of  a  fortune." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  his  ultimate  success,"  replied  Mr. 
Ledgeral,  "  although  thousands  full  as  clever  as  he  fail.  In 
ten  or  fifteen  years,  perhaps,  he  may  be  able  to  offer  a  girl  a 
respectable  if  not  a  very  elegant  home.  Can  you  afford  to 
wait  for  him  so  long  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  papa.  I  shan't  decide  that  question  until 
he  asks  me,  and  I  don't  think  that  he  has  the  least  disposi 
tion  to  do  so  at  present." 

"  That  is,  my  dear,  just  what  I  find  fault  with.  He  has 
no  intention  of  asking  such  a  foolish  question,  and  yet  the 
simpleton  is,  by  his  silly  gallantries  and  attention,  encourag 
ing  his  own  absurd  feelings  and  trying  to  engage  yours.  You 
had  better  put  an  end  to  it,  my  dear,  and  not  leave  the  task 
to  your  mother  or  myself." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  marked  the  flush  that  mantled  his  daughter's 
face,  and  he  hastened  to  correct  his  mistake.  A  threat  is  the 
last  weapon  of  American  parental  authority,  and  must  be  used 
with  great  caution.  American  girls  have  so  much  of  their 
own  way,  and  do  so  much  of  their  own  bringing  up,  that  in 
matters  of  the  heart  a  parental  threat,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten, 
only  arouses  opposition.  Plead  with  them,  argue  with  them 
in  a  gentle  way  ;  coax  them,  wheedle  them,  laugh  at  them, 
make  fun  of  their  idol,  pick  them  up  in  time  and  break  up 
associations  by  flitting  to  the  Rhine,  or,  if  necessary,  to  the 
Danube  and  the  Nile  ;  and,  if  possible,  start  Jim  in  opposi 
tion  to  Tom,  but  don't  drive  your  loving  daughter  into  the 
arms  of  the  adoring  and  adorable  Tommy  by  getting  angry 
and  threatening  to  "break  things." 

"  Mind,  I  don't  insist  upon  your  duty  to  us,  my  dear,"  re 
sumed  Mr.  Ledgeral  ;  "  that  I  leave  to  your  own  judgment 
and  heart ;  but  I  think  that  you  owe  it  to  the  young  man  to 
put  an  end  to  his  attentions.  He  no  doubt  thinks  that  you 


364  NEVER  A  C.I  IX. 

are,  or  will  be,  rich  ;  oh,  you  need  not  think  that  I  mean  he  is 
after  your  money  ;  but — well — well — " 

Mr.  Ledgeral  started  up  in  an  agitated,  almost  frightened 
manner,  and  made  two  or  three  turns  up  and  down  the  room. 
There  was  something  in  the  excited  tone  of  his  voice,  and  in 
the  sudden  dropping  over  his  whole  visage  of  such  an  expres 
sion  of  intense  misery,  that  Helen  sat  riveted  to  her  seat  in 
wonder  and  alarm. 

"  I'll  tell  you  something,"  he  suddenly  cried,  flinging  him 
self  on  to  the  sofa  by  her  side.  "  A  secret — a  profound  se 
cret  as  yet,  though  God  knows  how  soon  the  whole  world  will 
know  it — but  I  must  tell  it  to  some  one  >x  I  will  tell  it  to  you — 
to  my  daughter — -to  my  little  Helen." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  threw  his  arms  round  his  daughter,  and 
clasped  her  in  a  passionate  embrace.  He  pressed  her  head 
convulsively  against  his  heart,  kissed  her  on  the  forehead,  and 
laid  his  cheek  against  the  soft  masses  of  her  lustrous  hair. 

Helen  felt  the  deep  sob  that  shook  his  frame — felt  the  hot 
scalding  tear  that  fell  upon  her  upturned  face.  Her  own 
emotion — a  compound  of  love,  curiosity,  astonishment,  and 
fear — was,  for  an  instant,  too  violent  for  speech.  She  clutched 
his  hand  in  hers,  and  as  her  voice  came  to  her  she  whispered 
with  scanty  breath,  "  What  is  it,  father  ?  Tell  me — say  what 
is  the  matter  !  What  can  I  do  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  muttered  Mr.  Ledgeral ;  "  I  will  tell  my  little 
daughter  !  why  should  I  not '?  whom  else  should  I  tell  ?  She 
has  more  sense  than  any  of  them,  and  she  loves  her  father 
more  than  any  one  else  does  ;  don't  she,  my  darling — my 
dearest  darling?  Yes,  yes,  I  will  tell  you,  Helen,"  he  re 
sumed,  in  a  firmer  tone.  "  It  will  relieve  my  mind  ;  it  will 
lighten  my  burden.  I  know  it  is  selfish  to  load  your  young 
heart  prematurely,  if  only  by  a  day  or  an  hour,  with  trouble  ; 
but  I  am  a  weak,  wicked  man  in  more  things  than  this,  and  it 
is,  after  all,  necessary  that  you  should  know." 

A  sudden  wave  of  terror  swept  through  the  young  girl's 
veins  ;  a  sharp,  swift  thrill  of  anguish  vibrated  through  every 
nerve  ;  a  something  gigantic,  horrible,  ghastly,  seemed  all  at 


NEVER  AGAIN.  365 

once  to  leap  out  from  the  shadow  of  the  future  and  en 
velop  her  in  an  atmosphere  of  black  despair.  Her  father 
was  about  to  announce  his  apprehension  of  the  most  terrible 
malady  that  affects  humanity — a  mind  diseased,  and — Oh  hor 
ror  !  he  is  perhaps  already  insane  !  She  suddenly  threw  her 
arm  around  her  father's  neck. 

"  No,  no,  father  !  it  cannot  be  ;  it  must  not  be  !  You  are 
deceived  ;  I  know  you  are." 

"  No,  Helen,  I  am  not  deceived.  I  am — there  can  be  no 
doubt  of  it — a  ruined  man." 

"  Some  temporary  ailment  —  some  curable  disease  !  I 
know  it  must  be.  We  will  have  the  best  advice  ;  we'll  seek 
it  here — in  Europe — everywhere  !  " 

"  No,  no,  Helen,  I  do  not  mean  my  health.  Would  to 
God  it  were  merely  my  health.  I  am  ruined  in  fortune  !  You 
need  not  look  so  blankly  incredulous — it  is  true — utterly 
ruined  in  fortune  !  No  one  knows  it  as  yet ;  nobody  must 
know  it  so  long  as  it  can  be  kept  a  secret.  Your  mother  must 
not  know  it ;  your  sister  must  not  know  it ;  and,  above  all, 
your  uncle  Shippen  must  not  know  it.  My  only  hope  is  in 
keeping  it  secret.  But  I  tell  you — you  only — I  am  ruined  !  If 
you  were  to  be  married  to-morrow  it  would  be  expected  that  I 
should  treat  you  as  I  have  promised  to  treat  your  sister,  and 
give  you  a  house  and  a  hundred  thousand  dollars.  My  poor 
little  darling,  I  could  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  I  might  give 
you  a  trousseau  and  a  splendid  wedding,  but  not  a  cent  be 
sides  ;  and  even  that  would  be  robbery." 

Helen  felt  something  of  a  sense  of  relief  at  the  announce 
ment.  Her  first  fear,  so  strong,  so  overwhelming,  having  in  ^, 
degree  blunted  her  sensibility  to  any  less  horrifying  emotion. 

"  I  cannot  understand  it !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  So  sudden, 
so  strange  !  But,  father,  why  should  you  worry  about  it?  We 
can  live  without  fortune.  Everybody  is  not  rich  ;  and  I  am 
sure  everybody  says  that  wealth  is  not  happiness.  We  can 
live  ;  we  can  love  each  other  just  as  well." 

"  Ah,  Helen,  you  know  nothing  of  what  the  crash  will  be 
when  it  comes.  Wealth  is  not  always  happiness,  but  it  is,  in 


366  NEVER  AGAIN. 

this  age,  and  in  the  society  to  which  we  belong,  the  sine  qua 
non  of  happiness ;  the  something  without  which  happiness  or, 
in  lieu  of  happiness,  comfort,  amusement,  and  mental  and 
physical  enjoyment  are  difficult  of  attainment.  But  it  is  non 
sense  for  me  to  sit  here  and  entertain  my  little  girl  with  the 
common-place  twaddle,  pro  and  con,  of  the  moralists,  about 
wealth.  No  doubt  in  practice  we  could  be  as  philosophic  as 
other  people.  No  doubt  we  should  be  able  to  adapt  ourselves 
to  altered  circumstances.  No  doubt  that  we  should  have  some 
resources  of  enjoyment,  even  in  poverty,  if  that  poverty  were 
not  disgraceful." 

"  And  would  our  poverty  be  disgraceful  ?  Why  to  us  more 
than  others  ?  "  demanded  Helen. 

Mr.  Ledgeral  passed  his  arm  round  his  daughter,  and 
drew  her  down  to  him. 

"  I  cannot  explain  it  all  to  you,  my  darling.  You  would 
not  understand  it,  if  I  did ;  but  I  fear,  in  fact  I  know,  that  if 
I  fail  now,  I  shall  not  only  be  a  ruined,  but  a  dishonored 
man." 

"  Dishonored  !  oh  father  !  Is  there  no  possible  way  to 
avoid  it.  Cannot  Uncle  Shippen — " 

"  Hush,  my  dear,  not  a  word  of  him.  He  will  suffer  im 
mensely,  and  I  am  afraid  will  prove,  at  least  in  words,  my 
hardest  friend.  The  only  thing  that  will  save  me — can  save 
my  honor,  and  the  honor  of  us  all — can  save  you,  your  mother 
and  your  sister,  is  time.  A  year,  or  at  most  two  years,  would 
put  all  things  right,  and  nobody  but  you  and  I  be  any  the 
wiser." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  paused,  and  looked  at  his  daughter  with  a 
most  woe-begone  and  pitying  expression,  but  the  pity  that 
was  in  his  heart  was  entirely  for  himself.  He  was  too  much 
taken  up  with  his  own  misfortunes,  and  the  consequent  im 
pending  calamities,  to  think  of  anything  else  or  to  properly 
estimate  any  sacrifice  that  would  save  him.  He  loved  his 
daughter  with  something  more  than  mere  blind  paternal  affec 
tion.  He  had  learned  to  admire  her,  and  to  respect  her. 
She  occupied  a  place  in  his  heart  to  which  neither  his  wife 


NEVER  AGAIN.  367 

nor  his  eldest  daughter  had  attained,  and  yet  no  thought  of  her 
feelings  moved  him,  when  hesitating  as  to  how  best  to  extort 
from  her  a  consent  to  his  plans.  Still,  let  us  do  him  justice 
and  modify  our  ideas  of  his  selfishness  by  a  proper  considera 
tion  of  all  the  circumstances.  Had  he  .been  put  to  it,  he 
would  have  argued  that  it  was  not  alone  to  save  himself,  to 
save  his  honor,  to  save  the  credit  of  the  great  American  Mer 
chant,  but  to  save  his  family,  to  save  this  very  daughter  from 
the  evils  and  miseries  and  degradation  that  would  attend  his 
failure,  and  he  would  have  argued  still  more  strenuously,  that 
his  plan  involved  on  her  part  no  sacrifice  at  all.  That  to 
urge  upon  his  daughter  a  husband  with  rank,  fortune,  and 
fashion,  is  nothing  more  than  the  duty  of  any  father,  and  that 
he  ought,  apart  from  any  advantage  to  himself,  to  exert  his 
parental  influence  to  that  end. 

But  Mr.  Ledgeral  had  his  doubts  as  to  the  best  way  of 
presenting  the  subject.  He  felt  that  Helen  had  a  certain  ele 
vation  of  character  that  might  lead  her  to  spurn  considera 
tions  which  have  such  an  overwhelming  influence  on  the  ordi 
nary  female  mind.  He  felt  that  while  her  good  sense,  and 
sound  judgment,  and  family  training,  and  the  influence  of  the 
social  atmosphere  which  she  had  breathed  all  her  life,  would 
prevent  her  making  a  fool  of  herself,  and  yielding  all  pros 
pects  of  comfort  and  enjoyment  for  life  to  the  promptings  of 
passion,  or  the  suggestions  of  a  silly  and  absurd  sentimental- 
it}7,  on  the  other  hand  she  might  be  equally  indisposed  to  buy 
the  comforts  and  pleasures  of  wealth  and  position  by  any  sac 
rifice  of  feeling  or  affection.  She  might  prove  quite  deaf  to 
any  arguments  of  mere  self-interest,  quite  blind  to  any  pic 
tures  of  mere  worldly  splendor  and  pleasure. 

No  ;  the  better  way  would  be  to  trust  to  her  affection  for 
himself,  allow  the  terrible  necessities  of  the  case,  and  make 
an  appeal  to  her  heart. 

It  needed  no  acting  on  his  part  for  his  white  countenance 
to  assume  a  most  beseeching  expression. 

"Can  nothing  be  done  ?"  murmured  Helen. 

"  It  all  depends  upon  you,"  replied  Mr.  Ledgeral. 


368  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"Upon  me?" 

"  Yes  !  there  is  no  other  help  that  can  avail  me.  You 
alone  can  secure  the  necessary  time.  Listen  to  me.  This 
young  Count — you  see  what  he  is  :  tolerably  good-looking, 
cultivated,  refined  in  his  manners — that  is  for  a  German — and 
rich.  Well,  there  is  not  a  girl  in  town  that  would  not  jump  at 
him  for  a  husband.  Now,  I  can  see  that  he  has  conceived  a 
desperate  admiration  of — whom  do  you  suppose  ?  Of  you ! 
You  doubt  it  ?  You  need  not.  Your  mother  thinks  so  too. 
In  fact  he  has  as  good  as  told  us  so." 

Helen  jumped  up  from  the  sofa,  and  stood  before  her 
father  with  her  hands  firmly  clasped. 

"  Oh,  father,  it  is  impossible  !  I  can't  have  it !  I  won't 
have  it !  I  don't  dislike  him,  but  I  don't  love  him  !  I  never 
can  love  him.  He  may  be  all  that  you  say  he  is,  but  I  have 
made  up  my  mind.  I  won't  marry  a  European.  They  don't 
make  good  husbands, — everybody  says  so.  They  have  at  the 
bottom  of  their  hearts  a  contempt  for  women.  I  am  not  go 
ing  to  be  the  slave  or  servant  of  any  man.  I  don't  want  a 
husband  who  looks  upon  me  as  an  appendage  instead  of  a 
partner,  who  thinks  it  ought  to  be  enough  happiness  that  I 
have  the  felicity  of  waiting  upon  him  and  attending  to  his 
whims,  and  keeping  his  house,  or  showing  off  his  generosity 
and  good  taste  at  parties  and  balls.  I  don't  want  a  husband 
at  all,  but  if  I  have  one,  I  want  an  American  husband  ;  I 
want  a  husband  to  love  me  and  respect  me  and  wait  upon  me 
and  take  care  of  me  ;  I  want  a  husband  who  will  make  me 
love  him  with  a  perfect  love, — with  a  love  that  casteth  out  all 
fear,  all  sense  of  obligation  ;  all  feeling  of  inequality  on  the 
one  hand,  and  all  feeling  of  self — all  sense  of  contrariety  of 
interest,  on  the  other.  But  I  don't  want  any  husband  !  I 
won't  marry  any  one.  You  must  stop  this  thing,  don't  let  it 
go  any  further.  I  can't  have  it, — I  won't  have  it !  " 

Helen  stopped  short  in  her  energetic  tirade.  Her  bosom 
heaved,  and  her  breath  came  short,  and  she  clutched  her 
hands  tightly  to  keep  them  from  rudely  gesticulating  in  her 
passionate  excitement. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  369 

Mr.  Ledgeral  took  her  hand  in  his  and  drew  her  down 
again  to  his  side. 

"  Hush,  hush,  my  daughter  !  you  will  alarm  them  across 
in  the  parlor." 

"  And  besides !  "  suddenly  exclaimed  Helen,  "  what  has 
the  CounL  to  do  with  the  subject  we  were  talking  about,  and 
how  can  I  secure  you  the  necessary  time  ?  The  Count  can 
have  no  influence  with  your  creditors  ? " 

"  Yes,  all  powerful  influence." 

"  He  is  not  one  of  them  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  principal." 

"  And  he  makes  my  hand  the  price  of  his  forbearance  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  Helen  ;  you  do  the  Count  great  injustice.  He 
makes  no  such  bargain  as  that.  In  fact  I  may  be  mistaken 
in  supposing  that  he  will  be  disposed  to  make  any  bargain  at 
all.  It  is  quite  possible  that  his  admiration  may  not  go  to  the 
extent  of  proposing  for  your  hand.  You  must  recollect  that 
he  has  a  great  many  prejudices  to  overcome,  as  well  as  your 
self.  There  is  your  want  of  rank.  True,  your  birth  and  breed 
ing  are  the  best  in  this  country,  and  he  would  not  esteem  it  a  ter 
rible  mesalliance,  as  he  would  a  marriage  with  the  daughter  of  a 
banker  or  merchant  of  Frankfort  or  Hamburg.  But  you  are 
a  republican  and  he  a  member  of  the  most  stupidly  prejudiced 
— the  most  absurdly  narrow-minded  aristocracy  in  Europe. 
So  it  may  be,  then,  that  there  is  not  any  very  strong  founda 
tion  for  either  jny  hopes  or  your  fears.  Let  us  wait  awhile  be 
fore  we  make  any  resolves  that  we  may  repent  of.  What  I 
want  of  my  little  daughter  now  is,  that  she  should  turn  the 
thing  over  in  her  mind,  and  try  her  best  to  save  her  father, 
and  her  mother,  and  herself  too,  from  a  very  great  calamity. 
Try  and  see  if  you  can't  cultivate  a  little  higher  estimate  of 
the  young  man's  numerous  good  qualities.  I  would  not  urge 
you  to  anything  that  I  thought  disadvantageous  or  disagreea 
ble,  but  I  think  that  you  have  taken  a  wrong  view  of  the  mat 
ter  ;  that  in  your  mind  you  have  not  given  the  Count  fair 
play.  I  think  that  he  is  the  most  eligible  match  in  town,  and 
I  will  say  that  I  have  never  seen  any  one  to  whom  I  would 
24 


370  NEVER   AGAIN. 

more  willingly  intrust  your  happiness.  Nay,  nay,  I  know 
what  you  would  say.  I  don't  want  you  to  make  love  to  him, 
but  don't  be  rude  to  him  ;  don't  refuse  to  listen  to  him.  You 
can't  fully  realize  what  consequences  may  follow  any  action 
of  yours.  I  can't  explain  the  matter  fully,  but  you  can  take 
my  word  for  it,  the  most  terrible  fate  hangs  over  your  father 
by  a  single  thread.  Mere  failure,  ruin,  poverty,  could  be 
borne.  But  come  closer  to  me,  my  darling,  that  I  may  whis 
per  it  to  you.  Mercantile  dishonor  and  social  disgrace  may 
mean  much  or  little  ;  but  what  do  you  say  to  a  felon's  cell ; 
to  a  public  court  with  judge  and  jury,  and  your  father  at  the 
bar  ?  " 

Mr.  Ledgeral's  looks  and  tones  were  even  more  impressive 
than  his  words,  and  aroused  in  Helen  a  feeling  of  dread  that 
seemed  to  benumb  all  her  faculties,  and  almost  stifle  the  action 
of  her  heart. 

"  Oh,  father,"  she  murmured,  "  can  it  be  that  in  this  coun 
try  an  innocent  man  can  suffer  so  ?  I  thought  such  things 
were  only  in  novels.  You  surely  can  never  have  done  any 
thing  to  offend  the  law.  The  law  must  be  cruel,  unjust, 
wrong — " 

"  Many  laws,  my  dear,  are  so,  and  it  is  difficult  for  a  man 
in  business  to  always  steer  clear  of  their  clutches.  But  this  is 
a  thing  you  can't  understand.  Nevertheless  you  must  believe 
me — my  fate  depends  upon  you.  Decide  against  me,"  con 
tinued  Mr.  Ledgeral,  a  sudden  inspiration  of  frightened  self 
ishness  coming  to  his  aid — "  decide  against  me  and  you  de 
cide  my  death.  I  will  never  live  to  see  the  wreck  of  all  things. 
I  will  not  live  to  see  my  little  daughter  a  beggar,  almost  an 
outcast." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  gazed  into  the  great  gray  eyes,  motionless, 
almost  rigid,  and  blank  with  the  blankness  of  a  wild,  horrify 
ing  fear.  His  own  looks  fell,  and  his  whole  form  shrank, 
and  cowered,  and  shivered,  not  alone  at  the  apprehensions  he 
had  been  endeavoring  to  make  his  daughter  share  ;  not  alone 
at  a  conviction  of  mingled  folly  and  guilt,  which  swept  not 
unfrequently  through  his  heart  with  the  force  of  a  moral  hurri- 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


371 


cane,  but  as  much,  or  more,  beneath  a  sense  of  intense  per 
sonal  degradation,  implied  in  this  effort  to  play  upon  the 
innocent  affection  of  his  child — to  deceive  her  loving  heart  to 
his  own  selfish  ends.  It  is  true  stern  necessity  demanded  it ; 
but  even  if  he  secured  his  fame  and  fortune  in  the  eyes  of  the 
public,  would  he  dare  to  hold  up  his  head  again  ?  He  a  gen 
tleman  !  Bah  !  there  was  not  a  rag  or  tatter  of  the  gentle 
man  left  to  him.  He  did  not  deceive  himself — he  knew  that 
there  was  no  refuge  left  for  his  self-love  ;  but  in  a  pretence 
of  piety  so  strong  as  to  impose  somewhat  upon  himself,  as  the 
world,  and  a  great  increase  in  the  fervor  and  frequency  of 
his  public  devotions ;  he  might — he  would — make  himself  a 
loud-mouthed,  active,  energetic  church  member,  but  a  gentle 
man  he  could  never  be  again.  People  might  consider  him 
one,  but  he  himself  would  always  know  better. 

It  could  hardly  be  said  that  he  thought  this  all  out  in  so 
many  words  upon  the  instant,  but  the  substance  of  it  flashed 
out  upon  his  consciousness  in  a  flare  of  light,  and  so  he  sat 
shivering  and  shrinking,  a  poor,  sneaking,  guilty  thing,  be 
neath  the  gaze  of  his  loving  child. 

A  noise  in  the  hall  aroused  him.  "  Hush  !  "  he  exclaimed, 
as  Helen  was  about  to  speak.  "  The  Count  is  leaving.  Rouse 
up,  and  smooth  your  collar  and  hair.  Your  mother  will,  per 
haps,  look  in  ;  she  must  not  see  you  so  discomposed.  Recol 
lect  what  I  have  told  you  is  a  profound  secret.  I  will  talk 
with  you  again  about  it.  There,  now  they  have  gone  back 
into  the  parlor  ;  you  can  run  up  stairs,  and  I  must  go  down 
town.  I  am  very  late  to-day." 

And  Mr.  Ledgeral  hastily  seized  his  hat  and  gloves,  and 
nervously  hurried  Helen  from  the  room.  He  watched  her  as 
she  slowly  mounted  the  stairs,  with  one  hand  on  the  balluster. 
If  old  Joseph  had  seen  her  he  would  have  been  slow  to  accuse 
her  movements  of  any  excess  of  vivacity.  Mr.  Ledgeral,  ob 
tuse  as  he  had  become  to  all  little  external  circumstances, 
could  not  but  no:ice  the  change.  He  uttered  a  sigh,  that  was 
almost  a  groan,  and  dashed  out  of  the  front  door,  and  down 
the  steps,  into  the  street. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Lights  and  Shadows — An  Accidental  Rencontre — A  Declaration — Very 
wrong  in  Luther  to  talk  so — "  Good-bye,  sweetheart." 

IF  Helen  had  needed  proof  of  the  fact  that  the  lights  and 
shadows  of  sentiment  and  feeling  often  qualify  for  us  the 
appearances  of  outside  objects  as  markedly  as  the  lights  and 
shadows  of  Nature  herself,  she  could  have  found  it  in  the 
altered  aspect  of  her  room  after  the  interview  with  her  father. 
No  one  had  entered  it  since  she  had  last  left  it,  yet  somehow 
there  seemed  to  be  a  change.  It  was  clearly  not  so  bright 
and  cheerful  as  usual.  Carpet  and  paper-hanging  had  sud 
denly  grown  dingy,  and  the  curtains  were  evidently  beginning 
to  fade.  The  aureola  of  tender  light  which  had  always  sur 
rounded  the  little  book-case,  with  its  neatly-bound  volumes, 
had  vanished.  Half-a-dozen  engravings  in  carved  oaken 
frames  had  assumed  a  thick,  muddy  tint.  The  canary  saluted, 
as  usual,  the  arrival  of  his  mistress  with  a  song,  but  his  tones 
were  screechy,  and  his  tune  badly  turned.  Helen  glanced  at 
the  chandelier.  Was  the  gas  escaping  ?  No  ;  it  was  the 
odor  of  that  pot  of  heliotrope  in  the  window.  How  could 
she  have  thought  it  so  pleasant  an  hour  ago  ?  The  neat  little 
French  escritoire  in  bois  de  rose,  no  longer  glittered  with  its 
usual  lustre  de  Paris.  After  all,  bois  de  rose  is  not  a  very 
handsome  wood.  It  has  not  been  run  into  the  ground,  with 
us  Americans,  like  Palisandre,  and  we  like,  it  for  its  rarity  and 
novelty ;  but  it  is  not  really  handsome. 

Helen  seated  herself  at  the  desk,  unlocked  and  rolled 
back  the  revolving  top,  and  then  listlessly  opened  and  shut 
the  drawers  one  after  the  other.  She  turned  over  two  or  three 


NEVER  AGAIN.  373 

letters  and  flung  them  back  into  their  places.  She  hauled 
out  several  manuscripts  but  replaced  them  without  reading. 
She  unlocked  a  secret  drawer  and  took  out  the  "  Legend  of 
Charlemagne,"  but  after  running  down  a  page  she  put  it  back 
in  its  case  and  returned  it  to  its  hiding-place. 

What  to  do  !  What  could  the  poor  girl  do  ?  She  sud 
denly  rested  her  arms  upon  the  desk  and  buried  her  face  in 
her  hands,  and  thought — no,  not  thought,  she  only  felt — felt 
as  feels  the  young  heart  when  for  the  first  time  comes  the 
conviction,  which  sooner  or  later  comes  to  all,  that  this  world 
is  not,  as  Mr.  Whoppers  would  say,  "  what  it  is  cracked  up  to 
be ; "  that  it  is  not  a  globe  of  gilded  and  glorious  glamour, 
made  up  of  flowery  meads  and  rainbow-tinted  skies,  and  sun- 
touched  clouds,  and  summer  breezes ;  but  that  it  is  a  hard, 
rocky,  earthquake-shaken,  volcano-riven,  tornado-swept,  wreck- 
strewn  ball,  almost  the  smallest  in  size,  leaving  out  of  view  the 
fragments  of  the  great  planetary  "  burst-up,"  and  quite  possibly 
the  meanest  in  destiny  of  all  the  little  globules  of  matter 
whiiling  within  the  limits  of  our  comparatively  contracted 
solar  system. 

It  is  not  pretended  that  Helen's  thoughts  wandered  off  in  this 
absurdly  astronomical  fashion.  Her  thoughts,  if  she  had  any, 
would  unquestionably  have  dealt  only  with  the  human  and 
moral  elements  that  enter  into  the  composition  of  the  world. 
But,  as  has  been  said,  she  felt  rather  than  thought.  No  doubt 
there  was  a  good  deal  of  unconscious  cerebration  which,  if  it 
had  been  capable  of  expression,  and  if  the  quotation  had  not 
been  so  trite,  might  have  vented  itself  in  the  verse : — 

"  This  world  is  all  a  fleeting  show, 
For  man's  illusion  given." 

But  Helen  did  not  think  ;  she  tried  to,  but  she  couldn't ; 
and  as  she  had  no  taste  for  common-place,  there  was  no  ne 
cessity  for  her  to  quote  Tom  Moore. 

She  did,  however,  the  best  thing  possible:  she  put  her 
head  down  upon  her  folded  arms  and  burst  into  a  hearty  fit 
of  crying.  In  a  few  moments  her  tears  fell  fast,  and  deep 


374  NEVER  AGA1X. 

sobs  shook  her  frame.  Suddenly  she  started.  What  if  some 
one  should  come  to  her  room  ?  her  mother,  perhaps  !  It 
would  be  impossible  to  evade  inquiry,  and  yet  impossible  to 
answer  any  questions  as  to  the  cause  of  her  grief.  Had  not 
her  father  charged  her  to  give  no  one  the  slightest  intimation 
of  the  horrible  secret  ?  She  would  slip  out  and  first  walk  her 
self  into  a  more  composed  state  of  mind,  and  then  stop  for 
^her  visit  at  Aunt  Shippen's. 

Helen  jumped  up,  rearranged  her  hair  and  dress,  and 
wetting  the  corner  of  a  towel,  carefully  wiped  the  traces  of 
tears  from  her  cheeks.  As  she  did  this,  and  while  putting  on 
her  hat  and  sack,  she  was  conscious  of  treading  more  carefully, 
so  that  her  steps  should  not  be  noticed  by  any  one  below  in 
her  mother's  room  ;  and  she  blushed  at  the  thought ;  and  she 
blushed  still  deeper  as  she  held  her  room  door  open  for  a  few 
mmutes,  and  listened  for  the  sound  of  any  one  on  the  stairs 
or  in  the  hall,  and  then  carefully  closed  it  in  silence.  She 
felt  like  a  guilty  thing  as  she  glided  down  the  stairs  ;  she  had 
never  been  compelled  to  anything  furtive  before,  and  now  the 
world  of  guilt  and  misery  had  laid  its  heavy  hand  upon  her, 
and  the  touch  she  felt  had  sullied  her  soul. 

She  had  gone  but  a  few  blocks  up  from  the  quiet  lower 
end  of  Fifth  Avenue,  when  she  began  to  be  sensible  of  the 
thickening  tide  of  fashion,  and  to  get  glimpses  of  the  rush  and 
whirl  of  life  in  the  great  artery  that  crossed  at  Twenty-third 
Street.  She  thought  to  herself  that  if  she  wished  to  escape  the 
notice  of  strolling  friends,  and  enjoy,  for  a  few  minutes,  a  soli 
tary  walk,  she  had  better  turn  into  one  of  the  cross  streets. 

For  a  single  block  a  double  line  of  sombre  brown-stone 
fronts,  despite  the  individual  littleness  and  meanness  of  their 
tall  fa9ades,  and  the  utter  absence  of  unity  or  breadth  of  de 
sign,  glowered  at  each  other  with  a  certain  stately  uniformity 
of  ugliness,  quite  in  harmony  with  the  deep  shadows  and 
solemn  stillness  of  the  narrow  street. 

And  here  about  the  middle  of  the  block  occurred  a  coin 
cidence — not  one  of  those  grand  coincidences  that  distressed 
novelists  so  often  employ,  but  one  of  those  little  every-day, 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


375 


yet  nevertheless  curious  coincidences  that  happen  to  almost 
everybody,  and  which  has  given  rise  to  the  proveib  in  every 
language — "  Talk  of  the  devil — or  rather  speak  or  think  of  an 
angel  and  you  will  hear  his  wings."  Now  Helen  was  not  ex 
actly  thinking  of  an  angel,  still  less  of  the  other  fellow.  She 
was  not  even  thinking  of  Luther  Lansdale.  It  is  true  she  had 
accidentally  encountered  him  once  or  twice  before  on  the  same 
street,  as  he  'was  returning  from  business  up  among  the  large 
lumber-yards  on  the  west  side  of  the  town.  But,  as  he  had 
explained,  calls  for  that  purpose,  in  fact  calls  up  town  in  bus 
iness  hours  for  any  purpose,  were  very  rare  ;  so  that  she  could 
hardly  have  expected  to  encounter  him.  She  was  not  then 
really  thinking  of  him,  at  least  not  with  that  magnetic  force, 
not  with  that  volitional  evolution  of  the  odic  influence  which 
is  supposed  to  be  the  only  invocative  of  a  bodily  presence.  She 
was  only  thinking  of  Imma,  and  wondering  what  would  have 
been  the  result,  if  the  grim  old  Kaiser  had  cut  Engenhard's 
head  off,  and  had  insisted  upon  his  daughter  marrying  one  of 
his  paladins,  say  Ganelon  the  Faithless,  or  Ogier  the  Dane. 
She  was  thinking  whether  it  was  most  probable  that  Imma 
would  have  refused  and  killed  herself,  or  have  submitted  to 
her  father's  wishes  and  gone  mad  ;  and  so  absorbed  was  she  in 
her  thoughts  that  she  did  not  notice  the  footstep  of  a  gentle 
man  approaching  from  behind,  until  they  were  quite  close  to 
her,  and  a  familiar  voice  exclaimed,  "  Good-morning,  Miss 
Helen.  I  thought  I  could  not  be  mistaken.  I  saw  a  figure 
that  I  knew  must  be  yours,  and  I  have  ventured  to  follow  you 
to  say  good-morning,  and  inquire  after  your  health." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Lansdale,  I  am  quite  well.  It  would 
seem  hardly  right  to  feel  otherwise  such  a  lovely  day.  But 
you — I  don't  think  that  you  are  looking  quite  as  well  as 
usual." 

"  Don't  you  ?  Well,  I  am  conscious  of  feeling  a  little 
worn  and  dragged  out  lately." 

"  You  work  too  hard,  and  perhaps  apply  yourself  to  your 
duties  and  your  studies  too  closely." 

"  No,  but  I  have  had  a  good  deal  to  worry  me  during  the 
past  week." 


376 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


"  I  don't  suppose  any  one  can  escape  worry  and  trouble  in 
this  life,"  replied  Helen,  speaking  in  a  reflecting  and  ques 
tioning,  rather  than  a  sententious  and  dogmatic  tone. 

Luther  took  an  eager  step  forward,  and  bowed  his  head  so 
as  to  front  a  little  more  fully  the  fair  face,  but  he  instantly 
drew  back  again.  He  knew  that  anything  impressive  in  gesture 
or  movement  would  draw  the  close  scrutiny  of  a  hundred  pair 
of  eyes  from  behind  the  curtains  of  the  second-story  windows. 
Besides,  the  scraps  of  lace,  flowers,  and  feathers,  called  bon 
nets  afford  little  or  no  excuse  for  craning  one's  head  into  a 
lady's  face  in  walking — no  protruding  frames  or  protecting 
cheek-pieces  to  look  round,  as  in  the  old-fashioned  times. 
"  Everything  is  open  and  above-board,"  as  Captain  Combing 
said  in  discussing  the  subject.  "  Yes,"  or  as  you  might  say, 
"  flush  from  ear  to  ear,"  replied  Whoppers.  "  I  suppose  if  it 
wern't  for  the  name  of  the  thing,  the  women  would  all  go 
bareheaded." 

Luther  drew  back,  and  resumed  a  proper,  nonchalant 
erectness,  but  he  could  not  discard  a  tone  of  affectionate  solici 
tude  from  his  voice,  as  he  said,  "  And  you,  Helen, — Miss  Ledg- 
eral  I  mean, —  you  have  trouble  too  !  Nothing  very  serious 
has  happened,  I  hope  ? " 

Helen  looked  up  at  him  and  simply  nodded  her  head. 

"  I  knew  it,"  passionately  exclaimed  Luther.  "  I  knew  it 
the  moment  I  saw  you.  I  saw  that  something  was  the  matte; 
— I  saw  it  in  your  gait — in  your  eyes,  in  your  smile.  Now 
tell  me  what  it  is.  Is  it  anything  in  which  I  can  help  you  ? 
Can  I  do  anything  for  you  ;  or  can  I  help  you  by — by," — 
Luther  hesitated,  and  the  blood  rushed  to  cheek  and  brow, 
while  a  sympathetic  blush  flashed  over  Helen's  face — "by 
not  doing — that  is,  by — by — avoiding  to  do  something?  " 

Helen  made  no  reply,  and  they  walked  along  a  few  steps 
in  silence. 

"  I  know  it  is  presumption,"  said  Luther,  "  but  may  I  not 
ask  if  I  have  anything  to  do  with  your  trouble  ?  You  don't 
speak — you  won't  answer  me.  I  am  sure  you  can  trust  me." 

Still  no  answer. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  377 

"  Believe  me,  Helen,"  continued  Luther  after  a  pause.  "  I 
am  capable  of  much  in  the  way  of  self-sacrifice.  I  feel  that 
I  could  sacrifice  anything  and  everything  for  you.  I  could 
sacrifice  all  my  prospects  in  life — life  itself,  and  what  is  infi 
nitely  harder,  my  love." 

As  he  uttered  the  last  word  Luther's  voice  sank  almost  to 
a  whisper,  but  had  assumed  the  clear  thrilling  tone  of  passion 
which  has  passed  the  hesitating  or  husky  stage. 

"  Yes,  my  love ;  Helen,  my  love, — and  God  knows  I  love 
you,  and  He  alone  ever  can  know  how  much  and  how  well, 
and  with  what  a  fierce,  desperate,  but  unselfish  love.  I 
thought  never  to  make  the  avowal,  and  least  of  all  at  this 
time  and  place,  but  I  cannot  help  it.  It  bursts  from  my  heart 
without  my  will.  But  it  can  do  you  no  harm.  I  expect  noth 
ing  from  you.  I  ask  for  nothing  in  return.  I  know  how 
hopeless  my  love  is,  and  must  be, — I  have  known  it  for  three 
years,— ever  since  our  first  encounter  that  fatal  night  on  the 
Hudson, — three  long  years  of  passionate,  but  hopeless  love." 

A  low  cry  of  suppressed  feeling  forced  its  way  through 
the  young  girl's  lips.  "  Oh,  oh,  Mr.  Lansdale, — Luther,"  she 
exclaimed,  "  don't,  don't  speak  so  !  You  must  not  say  such 
words  to  me ;  and  here,  at  this  time.  Oh,  it's  unkind  !  It  is 
ungenerous  ! "  and  Helen  felt  disposed  for  a  moment  to  defy 
the  proprieties  of  the  public  street,  and  raising  her  hands  to 
her  face,  indulge  in  a  good  sob. 

Ungenerous  ?  yes  it  was  ungenerous  in  Luther  to  make  such 
a  declaration  at  a  time  and  place  when  her  hands  were  tied 
so  that  she  could  not  make  even  the  slighest  gesture, — when 
her  feet  were  restricted  to  a  steady  walking  pace, — when  every 
feature  had  to  be  held  in  the  rigid  lines  of  a  mask  to  a  he&rt 
full  of  boiling  emotion.  Oh  !  if  he  had  chosen  some  place 
where  she  could  have  thrown  herself  upon  his  breast,  and 
hidden  her  confusion,  and  confessed  her  feelings  in  the  shad 
ows  of  a  loving  embrace  ! 

Truly  the  street  is  a  very  poor  place  for  a  declaration  of 
love.  It  does  very  well  for  a  simple  proposal  of  marriage, 
and  no  doubt  many  a  very  excellent  and  sensible  affair  has 


378  A'EVEK  AGAIN. 

been  arranged  there  ;  and  no  doubt  many  a  protracted  flirta 
tion  has  culminated  there,  and  either  flared  up,  or  fizzled  away 
into  a  slow-match, — but  for  a  declaration  of  downright  pas 
sionate  love,  the  street  is  not  a  good  place.  And  it  is  much 
worse  for  the  gentleman  than  it  is  for  the  lady.  He  has  to 
depend  almost  entirely  upon  words,  and  that  is  the  thing  that 
he  is  generally  weakest  in.  The  eyes  are  of  no  account  ;  the 
hands  are  sadly  hampered  ;  and  there  is,  as  Hosea  Biglow 
might  say,  no  "  hitching  up  closer."  No,  the  street  is  a  poor 
place  to  make  a  declaration  in,  except  when  acceptance  or  re 
jection  is  a  mere  toss  of  a  copper  on  both  sides. 

"No,  no;  not  ungenerous,  nor  yet  unkind,"  exclaimed 
Luther,  "  but  foolish — thoughtless.  I  forgot  myself.  You 
will  forgive  me,  Helen  ?  You  will  forget  that  I  have  been  so 
weak,  so  silly.  But  you  are  in  trouble,  and  how  could  I  resist 
saying  what  I  should  not  have  dared  to  say  at  any  other  time  ? 
You  will  forgive  me,  won't  you  ?  And  you  will  let  me  ask  you 
again  if  it  is  anything  that  I  may  know — anything  that  I  can 
help  you  in  ? " 

"  You  are  very  kind,  Luther,  but  you  must  never  talk  so  to 
me  again.  It  is  very  wrong,  and  very  improper,  or  rather  it 
would  be  very  wrong  and  improper  for  me  to  listen  to  you. 
Father  would  be  very  angry  with  me.  You  don't  know  all 
the  circumstances.  You  never  can  know,"  exclaimed  Helen 
in  a  mournful  tone,  and  with  a  sudden  sinking  of  the  voice, 
"  all  the  circumstances."  , 

"Circumstances!"  exclaimed  Luther,  "Aye,  that's  the 
word.  Circumstances !  I  know  them  too  well.  I  don't  pre 
tend  to  the  slightest  hope,  or  even  wish  to  resist  them.  I 
wcruld  like  to  alter  them,  but  of  that  I  have  only  the  most 
distant  prospect.  Defy  them  !  I  might  if  I  alone  were  in 
terested  ;  but  not  when  your  interests,  and  tastes,  and  habits, 
and  happiness  are  concerned.  Your  father  thinks  you  a 
match  for  the  best,  and  highest,  and  richest  in  the  land — and 
he  is  right.  And  why  should  I,  who  love  you  so  well  and  so 
truly, — permit  me  to  say  it  just  this  once, — I  who  love  you  as 
you  will  never  be  loved  again, — why  should  I  think  or  wish  to 
prevent  your  proper  destiny  ? " 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


379 


Somewhat  of  bitter  feeling  Luther  could  not  prevent  show 
ing  itself  in  the  emphatic  cadences  of  his  voice.  Helen 
made  no  reply,  and  for  half  a  block  they  walked  in  silence. 
At  length  she  raised  her  eyes  with  a  timid  furtive  glance.  ''I 
should  like  to  say  something,"  she  murmured,  "  if — if — you 
would  not  misunderstand.  I  would  not  have  you  think  that  I 
am  such  a  poor  slave  of  the  world — of  society — of  conven 
tionality  as — as — " 

Luther  made  an  energetic  gesture. 

"  No,  no,"  exclaimed  Helen,  hurriedly.  "  I  will  not  say 
— I  need  not  say — what  might  be  under  ordinary  circumstan 
ces.  But  I  would  like  to  have  you  know  that. in  anything  I 
may  do  I  am  constrained  by  powers  that  I  cannot  resist." 

"  Your  father  !  "  demanded  Luther. 

"  No,  no  ;  not  my  father — but  it  is  a  secret — a  terrible  se 
cret." 

And  again  both  were  silent  for  some  steps. 

"  May  I  ask,"  suddenly  exclaimed  Luther,  "  if  the  right 
parti  has  shown  himself?  It  is  impertinent,  I  own,  but,  Helen, 
haven't  I  a  right  to  know  as  much  as  that?  No,  not  a  right. 
I  have  no  rights — but  don't  I  deserve  to  be  trusted  a  little?" 

Helen  glanced  up  in  the  eager  face  of  her  companion 
with  an  imploring  expression  that  was  more  eloquent  than  any 
word  could  have  been. 

"  Yes,  I  see  it  is  so,"  said  Luther,  "  and  I  know  now,"  he 
continued  with  sudden  vehemence,  and  striking  one  hand  into 
the  palm  of  the  other,  "  who  it  is.  Yes,  Whoppers  warned 
me,  and  he  was  right.  It  is  that  young  German  Count." 

"  You  have  no  right  to  say  so,"  exclaimed  Helen.  "  No 
body  has  any  right  to  say  so ;  and  I  won't  allow  it.  He  has 
been  friendly  with  me,  but  nothing  more ;  and  there  is  no 
prospect  of  his  being — 

This  last  phrase  had  a  slight  inclination  towards  a  fib,  and 
Helen  knew  it,  and  hastened  with  clever  self-imposition  to 
connect  it  with  a  phrase  having  in  it  truth  enough  to  restore 
the  general  rectitude  of  the  sentence. 

" — And  there  is  no  prospect  of  his  being  ;  and  I  have  no 


380  NEVER  AGAIX. 

wish  that  he  should  be  ;  and  I  don't  want  my  name  connected 
with  his  in  any  such  way.  But  we  have  had  enough  of  this 
talk  ;  it  is  not  right ;  and  it  is  of  no  use.  It  can  do  neither 
of  us  any  good.  Let  us  talk  about  something  else.  You  say 
you  have  been  worried  and  troubled  the  past  week  ;  what  has 
been  the  cause  of  that  ?  Nothing  has  gone  wrong  down  in 
Burling  Slip  ? " 

"  No ;  but  I  have  had  a  terrible  thing  happen  to  me.  I 
have  lost  my  best  friend. 

"  I  told  you,"  continued  Luther,  after  a  pause,  "  about  the 
old  Frenchwoman,  Madame  Steignitz.  I  wish  you  could  have 
known  her.  No  description  of  mine  would  do  her  justice. 
You  would  have  been  much  interested  in  her.  I  don't  say 
that  you  would  have  liked  her,  but  I  have  learned  not  only  to 
like  her,  but  to  love  her,  and  certainly  if  any  one  owes  a 
heavy  debt  of  gratitude  to  a  friend,  I  do  to  her.  Well,  she 
has  gone." 

"  Dead  !  "  exclaimed  Helen. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Luther,  "  I  hope  not ;  I  doubt  if 
she  is  dead.  I  hardly  know  what  to  think,  but  she  is  gone, 
and  we  can  find  no  trace  of  her." 

"  That  is  very  strange  :  did  she  never  say  anything  to  you, 
indicating  an  intention  to  leave  the  city  ? " 

"  Not  a  word,"  replied  Luther.  "  I  was  with  her  the  even 
ing  before.  We  took  leave  of  each  other,  both  expecting  to 
meet  the  very  next  evening.  When  I  went  there,  her  door 
was  locked.  I  waited  till  ten  o'clock,  when  I  began  to  think 
it  strange,  but  I  was  not  fully  alarmed  until  the  next  morning. 
I  am  quite  sure  that  she  has  been  carried  off.  I  have  my 
suspicions,  but  I  cannot  make  the  police  share  them.  I  have 
offered  a  reward  of  all  the  money  I  can  command,  but  it 
is  not  enough  to  make  any  of  the  clever  detectives  take  hold 
of  the  matter  with  any  energy,  and  now  I  am  going  to  devote 
myself  to  the  affair.  I  have  given  notice  to  Mr.  Gainsby 
that  I  must  have  leave  for  a  month.  If  they  don't  choose  to 
grant  it,  why  they  must  find  some  one  for  my  place.  One 
tiling ;  I  am  going  to  find  her  if  she  is  living,  or  ferret  out 
and  punish  her  assassins  if  she  is  dead." 


NEVER  AGAIN.  381 

"  Won't  there  be  a  good  deal  of  danger  in  such  an  affair?" 
demanded  Helen. 

"  Perhaps.  The  parties  whom  I  suspect  are  a  pretty  des 
perate  set,  and  I  don't  suppose  they  will  surrender  their  prey 
readily." 

Helen  slipped  her  hand,  quite  unconsciously,  into  Luther's 
arm. 

"  Why  not  leave  the  whole  matter  to  the  police? "  she  de 
manded.  "  I  will  undertake  to  make  father  and  Uncle  Ship- 
pen  contribute  towards  a  reward  that  will  interest  the  services 
of  the  whole  force." 

Luther  looked  at  the  little  hand  resting  upon  his  arm  won- 
deringly,  when  it  was  quietly  withdrawn,  and  he  dropped  his 
own  hand  with  a  sigh. 

"  No  ;  you  would  not  advise  me  to  do  that  if  you  knew 
how  much  I  love  her  ;  and  besides  I  am  satisfied  that  the 
police  are  really  incapable  of  conducting  the  search.  They 
have  made  a  spasmodic  effort  or  two  in  the  line  of  burglars 
and  thieves,  and  that  more  at  my  instance  than  of  their  own 
good  will.  They  won't  believe  that  the  old  woman  has  been 
abducted.  They  think  she  has  gone  off  herself  and  will  turn 
up  in  good  time.  No,  I  am  satisfied  that  she  has  been  carried 
off,  and  I  am  satisfied  that  none  of  the  regular  members  of 
the  so-called  criminal  class  have  had  anything  to  do  with  it." 

"  But  may  it  not  be  that  the  police  are  in  the  right,  and 
that  she  has  gone  off  herself,  and  will  return  when  she  gets 
ready?  I  recollect  you  told  me  yourself  that  she  was  very 
queer." 

"  Yes,  that  is  true  ;  but  I  can't  explain,  at  this  time,  all 
the  reasons  that  make  me  think  that  it  is  a  case  of  violent 
abduction,  and  I  cannot  make  the  police  feel  the  force  of 
them.  Because  there  are  no  doors  broken  open,  and  no  draw 
ers  rifled,  and  no  property  stolen,  they  won't  listen  to  me." 

Luther  and  his  companion  had  returned  on  their  steps, 
and  were  now  very  near  to  Fifth  Avenue.  They  walked  as 
slowly  as  possible,  but  still  five  minutes  at  most  would  put 
them  in  the  tide  of  the  brilliant  thoroughfare. 


5g2  NEVER    AGAIN. 

"  We  must  part  in  a  few  moments,  as  I  am  expected  at  Aunt 
Shippen's,"  said  Helen.  "  Tell  me  how  I  can  learn  the  result 
of  your  quest — how  I  can  learn  from  day  to  day  of  your 
safety." 

"  And  you  wish,  Helen,  to  hear  of  me  ? "  exclaimed  Luther, 
eagerly.  "  You  take  interest  enough  in  me  to  care  for  my 
:>  ifoty  ? " 

"  How  can  I  help  it  ?  But,  Luther  Lansdale,  don't  mis 
take  me ;  I  have  been  very  weak  to-day,  very  foolish;  to  let 
you  talk  as  you  have  ;  I-  am  not  going  to  do  so  any  more.  As 
a  friend  I  shall  always  like  to  hear  of  you  ;  but  now  that  you 
are  going  into  peril,  as  I  know  you  are,  it  would  be  strange  if 
I  should  not  wish  to  hear  something  of  your  doings." 

Wicked  and  improper  thoughts  will  occasionally  flash 
across  the  minds  of  the  best  of  men.  We  cannot  all  help 
that.  Enough  if  we  vigorously  resist  them.  In  this  way 
Luther  thought  for  an  instant  of  proposing  to  Helen  to  meet 
him  at  stated  times  in  the  street.  It  was  a  foolish  thought  as 
well  as  wicked,  for  what  chance  was  there  that  such  a  girl 
would  consent  to  such  a  thing  ?  The  idea  was  a  profanation 
of  that  divinity  which,  in  his  imagination,  did  hedge  her  in, 
and  his  cheek  grew  red  with  shame  as  he  stammered  out — 

"You  are  kind — too  kind — but  I  don't  know  how.  I 
shan't — I  can't — see  you,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  No,"  interrupted  Helen.  "  I  have  promised  father — that 
is,  I  have  as  good  as  promised  him — that  all  intercourse  be 
tween  us  should  cease.  You  cannot  know — you  never  can 
know — the  reasons  that  make  him  exact  this  of  me,  and  make 
me  consent  to  his  wishes.  You  need  not  look  so  scornful  and 
so  incredulous.  There  is  a  great  and  terrible  secret  that  I 
can  never  tell.  But  I  have  just  thought  of  a  way.  Mr. 
Whoppers  is  still  your  friend  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  and  he  is  going  to  assist  me  in  this  matter  of  Ma 
dame  Steignitz." 

"  Well,  then,  I  shall  see  him  sometimes,  and  he  shall  tell 
me  of  you.  Good-bye." 

Helen  held  out  her  hand.     Luther  took  it  in  his,  held  it 


NEVER  AGAIN.  383 

for  a  moment,  limp  and  nerveless,  in  his  half-closed  fingers, 
and  then  let  it  slip  from  his  grasp.  For  a  moment  they  looked 
into  the  depths  of  each  other's  eyes,  and  then,  without  other 
speech,  simultaneously  turned  away  and  moved  off  in  different 
directions. 

"  Not  much  feeling  in  that  quarter,"  was  the  mental  com 
ment  of  a  gentleman  passing.  "  Brother  and  sister,  perhaps, 
and  no  love  lost  at  that." 

He  little  thought  what  a  tremendous  sacrifice  was  taking 
place  before  his  eyes  upon  the  altar  of  the  "  Proper."  Boggs 
always  maintained  that  there  was  more  downright  self-denial 
in  the  worship  of  the  great  Pam-bam-sham  than  in  the  services 
of  any  church  in  the  city. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

A  Hark-hound — More  Nuisance — Mrs.  Doolan  and  Mrs.  Macarty — Fifth 
Avenue  Meanness — A  slight  Clue. 

"  T  T'S  a  big  job  you  have  undertaken,"  exclaimed  Whop- 
JL  pers,  as  he  and  Luther  sat  in  consultation  at  a  late  hour 
in  the  editorial  sanctum  ;  "  and  the  chances,  I  can  tell  you, 
are  decidedly  against  you.  Still,  I  don't  advise  you  to  give 
it  up  ;  but  to  do  anything  you  must  do  it  artistically  and 
understandingly." 

"  How  so  ?  " 

"  Why,  in  the  first  place,  you  must  get  all  the  stories  by 
Dickens  and  others  of  detective  exploits,  and  read  up.  Fill 
your  mind  with  instances  of  secret  passages,  and  mysterious 
noises,  and  dubious  clues,  and  wonderful  coincidences,  and 
subtle  expedients,  and  delicate  intuitions,  and  happy  guesses ; 
and,  to  crown  all,  you  must  resolve  upon  the  most  indomita 
ble  persistence  and  the  most  brilliant  audacity." 

"  Pshaw !  "  exclaimed  Luther  pettishly. 

"  Well,  '  pshaw  ! '  perhaps  it  is  mostly  ;  but  still  there  is 
something  in  it.  It  is  a  real  land  of  adventure,  and  why 
shouldn't  story-tellers  make  the  most  of  it.  They  may  have 
overdone  it  perhaps,  but  it  is  a  cardinal  principle  of  detective  - 
ism  to  despise  hints  from  no  quarter,  and  you  will  find  some 
general  notions  by  which  you  may  profit.  I  suppose  you  have 
read  all  that  kind  of  stuff?" 

"Oh,  lots  of  it,"  replied  Luther  impatiently. 

"  Well,  then  you  know  all  about  the  paraphernalia — old 
clothes,  false  whiskers,  dyed  hair,  slouched  hats,  revolvers, 
spring  daggers,  and  dark  lanterns — eh  ? 


NEVER  AGAIN.  385 

"  Now  don't  get  mad — your  real  detectives  never  let  their 
angry  passions  rise.  Seriously,  however,  I  don't  see  how  you 
are  to  get  along  without  going  through  something  of  the  usual 
routine,  and  I  don't  think  you  can  do  it  alone.  Just  look  at 
the  case  for  a  moment.  You  are  young  and  good-looking. 
No  compliment ;  I  didn't  call  you  handsome,  so  you  need  not 
rise  and  return  thanks.  You  are  a  pretty  smart  young  fellow, 
and  know  a  heap  of  things,  but  you  are  woefully  ignorant  on 
many  points.  '  Why,  in  the  great  field  of  poverty  and  vice 
and  crime  which  underlies  all  the  shiny  conventionalities  of 
city  life,  you  are  just  as  green  as  grass.  What  do  you  know 
of  the  real  habits,  manners,  feelings,  or  even  language,  of  any 
one  of  the  various  denizens  of  our  vast  tenement-house  popu 
lation  ?  and  still  more,  what  do  you  know  of  the  strictly  so- 
called  dangerous,  or  criminal  classes  ?  Have  you  been  in  the 
habit  of  frequenting  the  haunts  of  vice  ?  Do  you  know  where 
our  haunts  of  vice  are  situated  ?  Do  you  know  a  haunt  of 
vice  when  you  see  it  ?  What  do  you  know  about  the  drinking- 
saloons  and  the  gambling-houses,  to  say  nothing  of  the  thieves' 
dens,  and  the  holes  and  hiding-places  of  utter  desperate  ruf 
fianism  ?  Now,  you  are  going  to  look  for  two  men — probably 
desperate  characters,  foreigners,  certainly — of  whose  person 
ality  you  have  only  the  faintest  idea ;  you  are  not  even  sure 
that  you  will  be  able  to  recognize  either  of  them  when  you  see 
them"." 

"  But  the  voice  !  you  forget,"  replied  Luther.  "  I  am  sure 
of  the  voice." 

"  Well,  that  is  something  ;  but  I  don't  see  how  you  are  to 
find  your  game  by  the  ear  alone.  By-the-by,  that  -suggests 
something.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  hark-hound  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Nor  I  either." 

"  But  is  there  such  an  animal  as  the  hark-hound  ?  "  impa 
tiently  demanded  Luther. 

"Well,  I  don't  suppose  there  is." 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  ask  such  a  question  for  then  ? " 

"  Why,  your  remark  about  knowing  the  fellow's  voice  sug- 
25 


386  NEVER  AC  A IX. 

gested  the  idea  that  such  a  thing  as  a  hark-hound  might  be 
made.  We  have  the  gaze-hound  and  the  scent-hound — dogs 
in  which  the  senses  of  sight  and  smell  have  been  enormously 
developed — why  could  we  not,  by  proper  breeding,  develop 
the  sense  of  hearing  in  the  same  way,  and  get  a  dog  that 
could  hunt  by  ear — a  veritable  hark-hound  ?  Artificial  selec 
tion  for  a  few  generations  would  do  it,  and  what  a  valuable 
thing  when  done  !  I  have  a  great  mind  to  give  up  journalism 
and  devote  the  rest  of  my  life  to  making  a  hark-hound." 

"  Pish  !     Why  do  you  turn  all  things  into  a  joke  ?  " 

"  Joke !  You  miscomprehend.  I  never  was  more  serious. 
And  besides  I  never  try  to  turn  all  things  into  a  joke.  I  only 
try  to  turn  a  joke  into  all  things.  There  is  a  distinction  for 
you.  Dull  people  can't  see  it.  Don't  you  make  the  same 
mistake.  You  are  impatient  because  the  idea  of  a  hark-hound 
whisked  across  my  fancy — well,  we  will  hark  back  to  our  sub 
ject.  I  don't  see  how  you  are  to  prosecute  your  quest  with 
out  a  companion.  If  I  could  go  with  you — but  I  can't.  I 
think  we  must  secure  the  services  of  a  detective.  And  yet  I 
don't  know  any  one,  and  I  know  the  whole  force,  that  is  ex 
actly  the  man." 

"  No,"  replied  Luther,  "  I  have  had  enough  to  do  with  the 
police  lately.  They  are  all  so  taken  up  with  their  own  theo 
ries  and  conclusions  that  an  outsider  like  myself  can't  get  an 
idea  in  edgeways." 

"  Well,  it  is  evident  that  you  must  undertake  the  job  in 
some  character  ;  prosecute  it  upon  some  system.  You  can 
not  go  about  in  your  present  style  of  clothes  ;  you  would  at 
once  arouse  suspicion,  excite  remark,  and  get  yourself  into 
plenty  of  trouble." 

A  great  many  plans  were  now  canvassed,  and  all  the  pros 
and  cons  considered.  Mr.  Whoppers  was  really  a  man  of  re 
source.  His  occupation,  for  years,  as  a  reporter  on  the  staff 
of  a  noted  daily  newspaper  had  given  him  a  fund  of  informa 
tion,  all  applicable  in  this  case.  Luther  could  hardly  have 
had  as  adviser  any  one  more  thoroughly  posted  in  all  the  de 
tails  of  New  York  low  life. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  387 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  Luther,  we  need  not  decide  upon  any 
special  plan  for  ultimate  operations  now.  One  thing  is  per 
fectly  clear :  that  you  must  first  find  out  what  has  become  of 
the  old  inventor.  You  can  begin  regularly  to-morrow,  and 
see  what  success  you  have.  You  won't  need  any  disguise  for 
that.  But  begin  at  the  beginning  ;  visit  the  house,  search  his 
room  thoroughly,  and  look  out  for  the  slightest  clue.  And 
now  to  bed,  but  not  to  dream.  Discharge  thy  mind,  for  the 
night,  of  this  perilous  stuff.  I  see  it  worries  you — you  are 
growing  thin.  If  you  get  into  a  nervous  state  you  may  as  well 
give  it  up.  Many  is  the  battle  that  has  been  lost  by  a  clever 
general  because  he  allowed  the  responsibilities  of  the  case  to 
worry  and  flurry  him.  Not  that  the  thing  is  entirely  volun 
tary.  Take  two  cases — one  a  general  with  plenty  of  brains, 
universal  information,  and  an  astonishing  fecundity  in  the 
way  of  brilliant  plans,  and  all  combined  with  the  highest 
physical  courage  ;  but  when  it  comes  to  action  the  blood  goes 
to  his  brain  in  too  great  quantities,  he  gets  excited,  and  thinks 
and  feels  too  fast  and  too  much  ;  that  is,  he  has  the  brains 
of  a  general.  The  other  fellow  is  rather  dull,  and  don't  know 
a  great  deal,  but  action  exerts  an  elevating  and  soothing  influ 
ence  upon  him.  He  thinks  quicker,  and  calculates  and  com 
bines  more  accurately  under  the  moderate  stimulus  of  the 
battle-field.  He  has  not  the  brains  of  a  great  general,  but  he 
has  the  temperament.  Now  and  then  you  have  a  fellow  with 
the  brains  and  temperament  united,  and  then  you  have  one  of 
those  great  generals  that  appear,  on  an  average,  about  one  to 
a  century. 

"  Now,  in  this  matter,  I  admit  nature  is  powerful,  but  still 
much  can  be  done  by  art — coolness  can  be  cultivated.  The 
habit  of  throwing  off,  pro  tern.,  all  pressure  upon  the  mind,  can 
be  acquired.  Don't  let  anything  worry  you  or  flurry  you  ; 
don't  let  the  moral  dominate  too  strongly  over  the  intellectual. 
Look  around  you.  Who  are  the  rulers  of  our  city  ?  Who  are 
the  wise  men,  the  great  men,  the  men  whom  all  good  citizens 
delight  to  honor  with  place  and  profit — are  they  the  men  who 
permit  the  moral  to  dominate  too  strongly  over  the  intellect- 


388  NEVER  AGAIN. 

ual  ?  Go  thou,  my  son,  and  do  likewise.  Sleep  the  sleep  of 
a  Gothamite  made  alderman,  and  awake  to  thy  labors  with 
brain  and  body  invigorated  and  strengthened  for  the  day.1' 

"  Sleep  !  "  exclaimed  Luther  ;  "  you  may  say  sleep,  but  I 
don't  believe  I  shall  close  my  eyes  to-night ;  I  can't  get  the 
old  woman  out  of  my  head." 

"  I  can  tell  you  how  to  get  rid  of  her.  Suppose  we  go 
out  and  get  half-a-dozen  raw  oysters,  and  a  pint  of  brown 
stout.  You'll  sleep  like  a  top,  and  your  head  in  the  morning 
will  be  as  clear  as  a  bell.  You  won't  ?  Then  I  can  tell  you 
another  plan.  It  is  homoeopathic — similia  similibiis,  you  know. 
To  drive  the  old  woman  out  of  your  head,  suppose  you  let 
a  young  one  in.  You  deceitful  young  humbug !  it  isn't  the 
old  woman  that  will  keep  you  awake  to-night.  I  am  sorry  for 
you.  If  I  was  in  your  place  I'd  bar  up  every  avenue  to  sense 
with  two  pints  of  porter  sooner  than  let  her  in." 

"  And  would  you  bar  up  with  two  pints  every  night? " 

"Yes,  for  a  month." 

"  But  suppose  it  was  for  six  months — a  year, — five  years?" 

"Ah!  Luther,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers  in  a  mournful 
tone,  and  taking  the  young  man  by  the  hand,  as  he  stood  with 
one  foot  on  the  stairs  ready  to  mount  to  his  room, — "  ah, 
Luther,  is  it  really  so  bad  as  that  ?  Has  the  shaft  flown  home 
to  the  very  vitals  ?  I  did  not  think  it.  Shakespeare  has  de 
ceived  me.  I  do  not  see  your  hose  ungartered,  your  bonnet 
unbanded,  your  sleeve  unbuttoned,  your  shoe  untied,  and  ev 
erything  about  you  demonstrating  a  careless  desolation.  Well, 
in  that  case  porter  won't  help  you.  You  do  right  not  to  apply 
to  the  bar, — you  must  carry  your  load  yourself  until  you  get 
rid  of  it  in  the  natural  way.  I've  carried  the  same  load  my 
self;  it  is  always  relieved,  and  by  the  same  process." 

"  What  process  V  "  demanded  Luther. 

"  It  dwindles.  Ah  yes,"  continued  Mr.  Whoppers  with  a 
mournful  shake  of  the  head, — "  it  dwindles.  Like  an  Irish 
dirt-cartman,  you  jolt  along  some  distance  over  the  stones  of 
life  to  a  distant  dumping-ground,  and  you  find  you  have  noth 
ing  to  dump ; — it  has  all  leaked  out  by  the  way. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  389 

"  One  moment,  my  dear  boy,"  continued  Mr.  Whoppers, 
holding  on  to  Luther,  who  was  pulling  himself  away  to  ascend 
the  stairs, — "  one  moment  and  I  can  bid  you  good-night  with 
a  clear  conscience.  Everything  is  like  and  unlike  everything 
else  in  this  world.  I  have  told  you  why  you  are  like  an  Irish- 
jTian  carting  dirt.  Can  you  tell  me  why  you  are  unlike  him  ? 
In  this  :  that  you  have  all  your  dumps  at  the  beginning  of 
your  course,  and  he  all  his  at  the  end. 

"Luther,  Luther,"  shouted  Mr.  Whoppers  as  Luther  tore 
himself  away  and  bounded  up  the  stairs, — "  what  says  Theoc 
ritus  ?  '  There  is  no  salve,  O  Nicias,  or  plaster  or  other  rem 
edy  for  love  than  the  Muses.'  Write  some  poetry.  That's  a 
good  fellow.  It's  not  only  a  remedy  for  love,  but  for  sleep 
lessness.  Have  pen  and  paper  at  your  bedside,  like  Pope, 
and  every  time  you  turn  over,  turn  out  and  turn  a  couplet,  and 
then  turn  back  again,  and  keep  turning, — you  may  be  sure  it 
will  all  turn  out  right  in  the  end.  Luther  !  Luther  ! — " 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Ding-dong  !  Ding-dong  !  Don't  you  hear  it  ?  Turn 
again,  Lansdale,  Lord  Mayor  of  New  York." 

"  Oh,  go  to  the  devil  !  " 

"  Too  long  a  journey.  I'll  turn  in,"  and  Mr.  Whoppers, 
chuckling  with  pleasure  at  having  provoked  Luther's  parting 
exclamation,  re-entered  his  room. 

Early  morning  found  Luther  at  the  house  in  Wooster 
street.  He  had  never  before  visited  it  at  that  hour,  and  had 
never  before  fully  noted  the  marks  of  dilapidation  and  decay. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  ten  days'  absence  of  the  owner  had  worked 
a  great  change  for  the  worse,  but  in  reality  tl^ere  was  very  lit 
tle  change.  A  trifle  more  dirt  perhaps — three  or  four  freshly 
broken  panes  stuffed  with  rags  or  paper,  and  the  rickety 
newel-post  of  the  balusters  wrenched  out  and  missing  ;  but, 
beyond  these  comparatively  trifling  strides  on  the  road  to  ruin, 
everything  remained  the  same. 

The  tenants  were  more  than  usually  orderly  and  quiet. 
Instinctively  they  had  combined  to  prevent  all  suspicion  of 
anything  unusual  in  the  house,  and  to  the  inquiries  of  the  po' 


39° 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


lice,  they  one  and  all  expressed  their  conviction  that  Madame 
Steignitz  had  gone  off  of  her  own  will  for  a  short  trip,  and 
would  soon  return.  They  scouted  the  idea  of  there  being 
anything  in  her  absence  that  called  for  an  investigation  by  the 
authorities.  Their  unanimity  on  this  point  was  curious  ;  es 
pecially  as  they  had  never  actually  put  their  heads  together  in 
council ;  and  as  each  one  really  had  strong  hopes  that  they 
might  never  see  the  old  woman  again.  But,  from  the  fighting 
couple  upstairs  to  the  cobbler  in  the  basement,  one  and  all 
agreed  that  there  was  not  the  slightest  ground  for  suspicion  of 
foul  play.  The  conviction  that,  if  they  could  keep  matters 
quiet,  the  disappearance  of  the  landlady  might  mean  weeks 
and  perhaps  months  of  free  quarters,  was  strong  enough  to 
bridle  the  tongues  of  the  women,  even  when  talking  among 
themselves. 

"  A  bright  mornin'  an'  a  fresh  one  to  yees,"  said  Mrs. 
Macarty,  the  charwoman,  to  Mrs.  Dennis  Doolan,  the  tailor's 
wife,  as  they  met  on  the  landing.  "  Yer  walkin'  I  see,  by  the 
basket  on  yer  arm  ;  an'  it's  quite  early  indade." 

"  An'  it's  early  I'm  forced  to  be,"  replied  Mrs.  Doolan. 
"  Ye  see  my  brother-in-law's  cousin  is  cook  to  the  Hagans  in 
the  Fifth  Avenue,  an'  I've  to  go  up  early  to  receive  the  little 
perkisites.  Ould  Hagan,  ye  must  know,  was  never  edicated ; 
an'  shure  it's  a  great  misfortune  for  a  gintleman  not  to  have 
an  edication.  He  was  a  butcher  wonst,  an'  now  the  ould  vil 
lain  prowls  round  in  the  dusk  o'  the  mornin'  like  a  hyena,  or 
a  cat-o'-nine-tails." 

"Oh,  but  he's  the  rich  one." 

"  Rich  !  He  rolls  in  gould  ;  ye  can  hear  the  bank-notes 
crinkle  every  step  he  takes  ;  and  Mrs.  Forlie,  wrro  is  my 
brother-in-law's  cousin,  twice  removed,  tells  me  that  just  the 
gould  and  the  silver  and  the  chinee  in  that  house  would  build 
a  cathaydral." 

"  Well,  I  don't  believe  that  he's  as  rich  as  the  old  one  who 
is,  that  is  who  was,  above,"  replied  Mrs.  Macarty,  signifi 
cantly  jerking  her  thumb  upwards. 

"Whist  !  my  dear.  It  doesn't  do  for  us  to  be  canvass 
ing  the  ni?ri'.s  of  our  shuperiors." 


NEVER  AGAIN.  391 

"  Ah,  never  fear, — the  lamentable  occurrence  will  never 
pass  my  lips  ;  but  I  was  just  thinking  who  will  collect  the 
rent  in  the  end  ?  There  is  that  young  man  who  used  to  visit 
her  so  often  :  will  he  call  for  the  money?" 

"  No,  sure  ;  he  has  no  idea  of  the  kind.  He  is  just  as 
puzzled  as  we  and  more.  The  old  lady  has  gone,  and  has 
evadintly  left  no  power.  We  must  just  rest  aisy  ontil  her  re 
turn,  which  in  my  opinion,  Mrs.  Macarty,  and  I  say  it  to  you 
in  confidence,  is  shure  but  may  not  be  spaidy.  Now  you  go 
out  a  grate  dale  into  the  world,  and  you  see  a  grate  dale  of 
society,  and  I  don't  think  it  will  be  becoming  in  you,  any  more 
than  in  me,  to  indulge,  during  her  absence,  in  any  idle  and 
unnecessary  conjactures  about  the  rint." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,  Mrs.  Doolan.  It  is  a  subject  bet 
ter  to  think  over,  than  to  talk  about.  A  pleasant  morning's 
walk  to  you,  ma'am,  and  may  you  find  your  cousin's  arms 
greased  to  her  elbows,"  and  Mrs.  Macarty  gave  a  sly  and  sig 
nificant  wink. 

"  Ah  !  it's  but  little  grease  that  you  can  find  in  old  Hagan's 
larder,"  replied  Mrs.  Doolan  with  a  mournful  shake  of  the 
head  as  she  descended  the  stairs.  "  The  old  villain  makes  a 
barrel  o'  soft  soap  every  three  months  with  his  own  hands." 

"  Och,  that  is  despisable ;  I  didn't  know  that  the  old  cow- 
skinner  was  so  mean  as  that." 

"  Mean !  Why  it's  meaner  than  that  he  is.  Perhaps  you 
wouldn't  believe  it  without  my  affidavy,  but  it's  as  true  as  gos 
pel,  that  he  sweetens  his  tay  wid  powdered  sugar  just  to  keep 
any  honest  and  desarving  individual  from  pocketing  a  few 
lumps  from  the  sugar-pot.  Whist !  here  is  the  young  man 
now.  It's  onaisy  in  his  mind  he  is,  or  he'd  niver  put  his  head 
in  his  hat  so  early  in  the  morning.  Don't  let  him  cajole  ye, 
Mrs.  Macarty." 

"  Divil  the  word,  my  dear." 

"  Good  mornin',  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Doolan  to  Luther's 
salutation.  "  It's  good  news  you  have  of  the  madam,  I'm 
sure.  And  ye  havn't  heard  of  her  ?  Well,  it's  queer  in  her, 
anyhow,  to  run  off  so  widout  letting  you  know  ;  but  thim  fur 


392  NEVER  AGAIN. 

rinners  are  always  peculiar.  She'll  bring  back  news  of  her 
self.  We'll  see  her  in  a  few  days  trotting  up  and  down  these 
stairs,  and  dunning  the  rint  as  usual.  Well,  she'll  find  every 
thing  kept  nice  and  dacent  for  her,  and  no  row  in  the  house. 
I'm  sure  she'd  not  like  to  find  any  of  us  had  been  making  a 
rumpus  about  her.  And  it's  Mr.  Planly  you  want  to  inquire 
about — the  little  man  with  one  eye  ?  No  !  Ah  !  well  the  tall 
man?  I  mind  me  now — about  six  months  ago — wasn't  it, 
Mrs.  Macarty  ? " 

"  Six  months  or  a  year,"  replied  Mrs.  Macarty,  from  the 
head  of  the  stairs. 

"  Six  months  !  "  replied  Luther.  "  Why  you  told  me  your 
self  that  you  saw  him  removing  his  things  not  three  weeks 
ago." 

"  Did  I  ?  I  thought  it  was  the  other  one  shure.  Which 
one  ?  Why  the  bald-headed  one.  Shure  I've  no  memory  for 
names  j  and  what  with  looking  after  the  old  man  and  six 
children,  I  never  know  who  comes  and  goes  in  the  house." 

Luther,  finding  that  nothing  could  be  made  out  of  the  two 
women,  mounted  the  stairs,  pulled  out  the  key,  which  he  had 
taken  possession  of  since  Madame  Steignitz'  disappearance, 
and  unlocking  the  door  entered  her  room.  Everything  re 
mained  pretty  much  as  it  was  the  evening  of  his  last  German 
lesson.  About  the  same  amount  of  confusion  and  disorder, 
slightly  aggravated  by  the  visit  which  he  had  induced  the  po 
lice  to  pay  to  the  house,  but  no  marks  of  personal  violence,  or 
any  indications  that  could  serve  as  a  clue  to  certain  mysteri 
ous  circumstances  that  marked  the  case. 

It  had  been  upon  a  second  visit,  two  or  three  days  after 
his  last  interview  with  the  old  lady,  that  Luther,  finding  her 
door  still  locked,  began  to  be  alarmed.  He  at  once  made 
inquiries  of  the  inmates  of  the  house.  No  one  had  seen 
anything  of  her.  He  clambered  out  of  the  window  of  the 
empty  room  formerly  occupied  by  Mr.  Planly,  and  made  his 
way  along  by  the  roof  to  the  window  of  the  old  lady's  room, 
and  looked  in.  He  could  not  raise  the  window,  for  it  was  fast 
ened  by  the  catch  which  he  had  himself  put  on  ;  but  he  could 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


393 


look  over  the  half-curtain  of  spotted  muslin  and  satisfy  himself 
that  no  one  was  moving  within.  The  conclusion  would  have' 
been  irresistible  that  the  occupant  had  gone  out,  and  had  not 
yet  returned,  were  it  not  for  one  circumstance.  Upon  examin 
ing  the  door  it  was  evident  that  the  key  was  in  the  lock  within. 

Luther  decided  to  open  the  door,  and  for  this  purpose 
went  out  and  secured  the  services  of  a  neighboring  locksmith, 
and  to  give  an  air  of  legality  to  the  affair,  invited  the  com 
pany  of  the  policeman  of  the  beat.  The  locksmith  readily  in 
serted  his  nippers  and  turned  the  key,  still  the  door  would  not 
open.  It  was  not  only  locked,  but  bolted.  Luther  explained 
that  the  bolt  was  a  tiny  piece  of  brass,  and  would  readily 
give  way  to  moderate  pressure  ;  but  bursting  open  a  door  by 
main  force  was  too  serious  a  thing  to  be  done  in  such  an  in 
formal  manner,  and  the  policeman  advised  a-  sesort  to  head 
quarters. 

Upon  Luther's  representation  of  his  relations  to  the  old 
lady,  and  his  suspicions  of  something  wrong,  the  proper  officer 
was  deputed  to  accompany  him  and  force  an  entrance.  Noth 
ing,  however,  was  found  that  could  assist  conjecture  as  to  the 
truth  of  the  case. 

"  The  door  is  fastened  on  the  inside ;  she  could  not  have 
gone  out  through  that,"  argued  Luther. 

"  The  window  is  fastened  down  ;  she  could  not  have  gone 
out  of  that,"  replied  the  police. 

It  was  mysterious,  it  was  true,  but  then  so  many  mysteries 
turn  up  every  day  that  in  the  end  are  susceptible  of  easy  solu 
tion  ;  and  besides  there  was  no  money  in  the  case  ;  and,  more 
than  that,  all  thoughts  were  occupied  with  two  terrible  affairs 
of  recent  occurrence — a  great  bank  robbery  and  a  murder — 
twenty  thousand  dollars  offered  in  rewards,  besides  the  pros 
pect  of  immense  collateral  pickings. 

Luther,  even  assisted  by  Mr.  Whoppers,  could  make  no 
impression  ;  and,  moreover,  he  was  for  the  first  few  days  by 
no  means  assured,  in  his  own  mind,  that  the  police  were  not 
right^and  that  the  old  woman  would  not  reappear  of  herself 
and  explain  the  matter  satisfactorily.  But  as  time  went  on  he 


394  KEVER  AGAIN. 

became  more  and  more  convinced  that  she  had  been  foully 
dealt  with ;  and  now,  on  the  tenth  day  since  her  disappear 
ance,  he  sat  in  his  accustomed  seat  at  the  little  old  pine  table, 
and  as  he  looked  around  felt  himself  more  and  more  strength 
ened  in  his  determination  to  devote  himself  to  the  investiga 
tion  of  the  affair. 

As  he  raised  his  head  he  glanced  at  the  dormer  window 
and  started  almost  with  fright,  so  clearly  and  with  such  inten 
sity  did  memory  reproduce  the  image  of  that  face  which  he 
had  seen  one  night,  for  an  instant,  pressed  against  the  glass. 
He  got  up  and  closely  examined  the  window.  She  could  not 
have  gone  out  of  the  door  and  left  it  bolted  behind  her,  that 
was  clear.  She  must  have  gone  out  of  the  window.  But 
how,  when  it  was  fastened  on  the  inside  ?  He  had  previously 
tried  to  shove  .back  the  catch  from  the  outside  with  a  slender 
knife-blade,  but  had  not  succeeded.  But  if  the  window  could 
not  be  unfastened,  might  it  not  be  that  it  could  be  fastened 
from  the  outside  ?  He  proceeded  to  examine  the  catch  care 
fully.  He  satisfied  himself  that  with  a  knife,  or  even  a  piece 
of  curved  wire,  the  thing  could  not  be  done ;  but — with  a 
piece  of  twine  ?  Yes,  with  a  piece  of  twine,  no  doubt.  And, 
by  heavens !  what  is  that  ?  A  delicate  film  of  hemp — half 
the  size  of  a  fine  hair  and  less  than  a  third  of  an  inch  long — 
sticking  to  the  catch-plate  !  Luther  picked  it  out  carefully. 
No  tress  of  maiden's  hair  was  ever  more  electric.  The  tiny 
fragment  sent  a  tingling  sensation  through  his  whole  frame  ; 
and  there,  in  the  gutter  below,  lay  a  piece  of  twine.  Luther 
stared  at  it  for  some  moments  in  silence  before  he  raised  the 
window,  and  with  trembling  hand  secured  it.  A  mixed  emo 
tion,  partly  of  wonder  that  he  should  not  have  noticed  it  be 
fore,  and  partly  of  real  fright,  as  if  the  dirty  string  was  a  thing 
living  and  venomous,  held  him  motionless.  At  length  he 
pulled  out  a  slender  filament  and  compared  it  with  the  one 
taken  from  the  catch.  Oh  for  a  microscope  !  But  as  far  as 
sharp  eyes  went  he  could  see  no  difference,  or  only  what 
might  be  attributed  to  the  mud  and  dust  of  the  gutter  in 
which  the  twine  had  been  half  buried. 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


395 


At  any  rate  he  would  try  it.  He  put  the  string  round  the 
€atch,  and  then  pushed  the  two  ends  out  between  the  upper 
and  lower  sash.  He  then  raised  the  lower  sash,  got  out  upon 
the  roof,  and  closed  the  window  behind  him.  A  moderate 
pull  upon  the  cord  dangling  from  the  crack  between  the 
sashes  now  drew  the  catch  into  its  place,  and  then,  by  releas 
ing  one  end  and  pulling  upon  the  other,  the  whole  string 
came  away  readily,  leaving  the  window  firmly  fastened. 

Luther  tried  the  window.  Yes,  it  was  firmly  fastened. 
He  satisfied  himself  of  that  fact,  and  then  crept  along  the 
roof  to  the  window  of  the  other  room.  That,  too,  was  fast 
ened.  He  recollected  that  he  had  nailed  it  up  himself.  His 
experiment  had  succeeded  better  than  he  had  anticipated. 
He  had  decidedly  barred  himself  out.  What  was  he  to  do? 
He  did  not  dare  creep  over  the  roofs  to  the  windows  of  any 
of  the  other  houses ;  he  might  be  taken  for  a  burglar  and 
compelled  to  make  his  explanations.  That  would  be  absurd,  to 
say  the  least.  No  ;  better  break  the  pane  of  glass  over  the 
catch  and  let  himself  in. 

But  first  he  would  see  if  he  could  make  his  situation 
known  to  any  of  the  inmates  of  the  house.  He  stretched 
himself  at  length  upon  the  roof,  and  drew  himself  down  until 
his  face  projected  over  the  gutter,  and  his  eye  could  command 
a  view  of  the  windows  and  the  back  door  directly  below. 
Really,  a  nice  position  for  a  genteel  young  man  ;  flat  on  his 
breast  on  the  roof  of  a  tenement-house,  to  the  great  endam- 
agement  of  a  clean  shirt-bosom  and  a  new  necktie,  and  cran 
ing  over  the  dirty  gutter  into  a  range  of  deplorable  back  slums, 
and  liable,  if  seen  from  the  other  houses,  to  have  a  hue  and 
cry  of  "  Burglar  !  "  raised  at  his  expense. 

But  suppose  certain  other  persons  could  see  him — suppose 
Helen  Ledgeral  could  see  him  ?  would  a  consideration  of  the 
real  danger  of  his  position,  and  of  the  lofty  sentiments  of 
right  and  duty  which  had  led  him  into  it,  counterpoise  in  her 
mind  what  might  at  first  seem  the  absurd  and  the  ridiculous  ? 
At  any  rate,  he  would  rather  that  she  should  see  him  than  that 
Whoppers  should.  Whoppers  would  be  sure  to  bore  him  about 


396  NEVER  AGAIX. 

his  attack  of  gutter  serena,  with  allusions  to  the  dangers  of 
eavesdropping  ;  and  would  perhaps  indite  an  article  for  the 
Universe  upon  "  the  absurd  positions  men  are  sometimes  led 
into  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge."  There  was  no  let  up  to 
Whoppers.  He  had  one  terrible  talent — the  talent  of  threshing 
out  the  smallest  sheaf  of  wit  into  countless  bushels  of  chaff. 

Luckily  Mrs.  Macarty  soon  showed  herself  upon  the  back 
porch.  She  seemed  at  first  a  little  dubious  as  to  whether  the 
hail  that  reached  her  ear  from  above  was  human  or  not,  but 
Luther  after  a  while  succeeded  in  satisfying  her  on  that  point,- 
and  in  making  her  comprehend  that  he  wanted  her  to  come 
up  stairs  and  unfasten  the  window  for  him. 

It  was  clear  now  to  his  mind  that  the  old  lady  had  made 
her  exit  through  the  window,  and  he  was  also  satisfied  that  it 
had  not  been  done  with  her  own  free  will.  The  man  with  the 
horrible  face  had  no  doubt  been  the  principal  actor,  and  the 
suspicion  that  Mr.  Planly's  visitor,  whom  he  had  encountered 
several  times  on  the  stairs,  was  also  connected  with  the  affair, 
broadened  in  Luther's  mind  as  he  considered  all  the  circum 
stances. 

There  had  clearly  been  no  robbery.  Drawers  and  clothes 
had  probably  been  opened  and  examined,  but  as  far  as  could 
be  seen  hardly  anything  had  been  disturbed,  and  nothing 
taken.  There  was  no  derangement  of  the  furniture  :  every 
thing  looked  to  Luther's  eye  in  about  its  usual  disorderly 
condition,  with  the  exception  perhaps  of  the  bed,  which  seemed 
to  be  more  tumbled  and  pulled  about  than  he  had  ever  noticed 
it  before.  It  could  not  then  be  a  case  of  robbery,  but — and 
the  few  words  in  that  foreign  voice  that  he  had  first  heard  from 
Mr.  Planly's  room  rang  in  his  ears — might  it  not  well  be  that 
she  had  fallen  victim  to  some  scheme  to  extort  money  from 
her,  or  perhaps, — and  Luther  shuddered  at  the  thought, — to 
put  her  out  of  the  way  forever,  and  secure  her  estate  ? 

Evidently  the  first  thing  to  do  was  to  find  Mr.  Planly.  A 
closer  examination  of  his  room  afforded  not  the  slightest  clue. 
A  few  screws,  some  bits  of  wood  and  brass,  and  two  or  three 
broken  boxes  were  all  the  evidences  that  remained  of  his 
former  occupancy. 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


397 


Luther  resolved  to  question  every  inmate  of  the  house  ; 
even  the  children.  It  was  wonderful  the  apparent  stolidity, 
but  real  cunning  with  which  the  examination  on  all  hands  was 
met.  A  universal  suspicion  that  there  might  be  danger  in 
answering  any  questions  had  converted  all  the  inmates  of  the 
house  of  Irish  descent  into  a  perfect  community  of  know-noth 
ings.  The  Alsacian  cobbler  in  the  basement,  however,  was  a 
little  more  communicative,  and  the  more  so  as  Luther  ad 
dressed  him  in  French.  He  recollected  seeing  the  effects  of 
Mr.  Planly  brought  down  stairs  early  one  morning,  some  two 
weeks  before,  and  placed  upon  a  cart.  He  was  not  sure  it 
was  a  cart ;  thought  it  had  four  wheels  ;  did  not  observe  any 
number  upon  it, — it  might  be  a  furniture  van,  but  his  impres 
sion  was  that  it  was  an  unlicensed  country  wagon.  Still  it 
might  be,  upon  second  thought,  a  cart ;  was  pretty  sure  there 
was  but  one  horse,  although  there  might  have  been  two.  The 
driver,  who  aided  Mr.  Planly  in  bringing  down  his  things,  there 
was  less  uncertainty  about.  He  was  a  large,  stout  man  with 
red  whiskers  ;  could  recollect  nothing  else  curious  or  charac 
teristic. 

All  this  was  not  very  encouraging.  In  fact  it  was  down 
right  discouraging.  But  don't  your  true  detective  begin  al 
most  always  under  discouraging  circumstances  ?  What  would 
the  famous  Mr.  Waters  do  in  such  a  case  ?  Why  he'd  can 
vass  the  city  until  he  had  found  out  every  stout  red-whiskered 
drayman  in  town.  And  what  if  he  should  light  upon  the  right 
man  in  the  end  ?  Why,  that  would  prove  that  Mr.  Planly  had 
moved  out  of  town,  and  narrow  the  question  down  to  Hoboken 
and  Jersey  City  on  the  west,  and  Brooklyn  and  Williamsburg 
on  the  east,  with  a  chance  of  Morrisania  on  the  north. 

"  Don't  you  see,"  said  Mr.  Whoppers,  who  was  at  the 
breakfast-table,  when  Luther  returned  from  his  morning  per 
quisitions,  "  don't  you  see  that  it  will  be  an  immense  stride  ? 
It  will  eliminate  the  great  city  of  New  York  from  the  prob 
lem.  You  can  then  attack  the  neighboring  towns,  and  elimi 
nate  them  in  succession.  It  may  be  something  of  a  job,  to  be 
sure,  but  patience  and  perseverance  !  Faint  heart  never  won 
an  old  lady." 


398  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"  Let  us  see,  however,  if  we  have  not  forgotten  something," 
continued  Mr.  Whoppers,  "  something  which  should  be  at 
tended  to  first.  You  think  that  Madame  Steignitz  has  been 
taken  out  of  the  window  of  her  room,  and  I  am  rather  in 
clined  to  agree  with  you.  Well,  dead  or  alive,  she  must  have 
been  taken  into  the  window  of  some  other  house  in  the  row. 
Now,  I  think  it  would  be  best  to  find  out  who  occupy  the  attic 
rooms  of  the  other  houses." 

The  suggestion  of  Mr.  Whoppers  was  an  excellent  one, 
but  Luther  found  great  difficulty  in  carrying  it  out.  His  first 
idea  was  to  secure  the  aid  of  an  officer,  but  to  this  there  were 
several  objections.  The  main  one  being,  that  it  would  excite 
a  general  commotion  in  the  street,  and  for  the  present  it  was 
a  great  object  to  keep  everything  quiet,  and  not  to  alarm  the 
guilty  parties,  whoever  they  might  be.  Although  his  visits  to 
the  house  of  Madame  Steignitz  had  been  almost  always  made 
in  the  evening,  it  was  not  improbable  that  his  person  was 
well  known  to  many  of  the  inmates  of  the  other  houses,  and 
if  he  should  undertake  the  investigation  in  the  company  of  an 
officer  suspicion  would  be  excited,  and  a  degree  of  publicity 
given  to  the  matter,  that  would  render  it  impossible  to  obtain 
any  correct  information.  For  this  reason  Luther  resolved  to 
go  alone,  avowedly  with  the  object  of  looking  for  rooms. 

Several  attic  rooms  were  vacant.  He  was  repeatedly  in 
formed  he  must  apply  to  the  agent,  who  had  an  office  at  the 
foot  of  the  street.  But  the  distance  was  too  great,  or  Luther 
too  ignorant,  and  so  he  blundered  on  into  the  inhabited  rooms 
with  his  inquiries,  in  a  few  instances  meeting  with  rather  rude 
rebuffs,  but  generally  getting  courteous  answers,  and  in  many 
cases,  thanks  to  his  youth  and  good  looks,  he  was  allowed  a 
long  gossiping  conversation.  Still  he  could  obtain  no  infor 
mation  that,  as  far  as  he  could  see,  had  any  bearing  upon,  or 
connection  with,  the  matter  in  hand.  In  fact  everything  that 
he  could  see  and  hear  rather  went  to  excite  a  doubt  as  to 
whether  the  old  lady,  if  she  had  gone  out  of  her  own  window, 
could  have  gone  into  any  other.  Clearly  she  must  have  been 
carried  over  the  roof  to  the  farthest  extremity  of  the  block. 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


399 


There  was  but  one  house  left.  Well,  he  would  make  a  finish 
of  that,  and  then  to  take  up  the  quest  for  Mr.  Planly. 

He  mounted,  as  usual,  directly  to  the  garret.  The  click 
ing  of  a  sewing-machine  sounded  from  one  of  the  rooms. 
Luther  had  but  little  idea  of  any  difference  between  hand- 
sewing  and  machine-sewing.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  myste 
ries  of  single  and  double  lock-stitch.  He  knocked  at  the 
door,  and  expected  to  see  it  opened  by  the  delicate,  refined, 
consumptive-looking  gentlewoman  of  his  last  novel,  and  was 
not  a  little  astonished  at  being  confronted  by  a  fat,  ruddy- 
cheeked,  good-looking  damsel,  who  seemed  to  be  equally  as 
tonished  with  himself. 

"  Looking  for  rooms  ?  Well,  there  was  a  vacant  room 
right  opposite  to  them.  The  agent  had  left  the  keys  in  her 
charge  ;  would  he  like  to  see  it  ?  It  was  a  nice  room  ;  it  had 
been  vacant  about  ten  days.  Didn't  know  the  last  occupant, 
and  didn't  want  to  know  him." 

"  Why  ? " 

"  Why  ?  because." 

"  What  kind  of  a  looking  man  ?  " 

"Well,  he  was  a  bad-looking  man — as  ugly  as  sin — pock 
marked  ;  had  hair  all  over  his  face.  Never  had  anything  to 
say  to  him  ;  never  wanted  to  ;  guess  he  couldn't  speak  much 
English.  His  business  ?  Don't  believe  he  had  any.  He 
never  was  in  his  room  much — why  should  he  be  ? — he  had 
hardly  any  furniture  in  his  room.  Don't  believe  he  had  a  bed 
even  ;  guess  he  slept  on  the  floor.  When  he  went  away  he 
carried  off  pretty  much  all  he  had  in  one  big  box." 

"What  kind  of  a  box?" 

"  Why,  a  box  like  a  sailor's  chest — quite  long.  He  had 
some  one  to  help  him  carry  it,  and  it  had  rope  handles,  and 
was  painted  lead-color." 

By  this  time  Luther  had  made  his  way  into  the  room, 
where  he  found  a  comely,  well-fed  dame,  who  seemed  to  be 
the  mother,  and  who,  while  eagerly  joining  in  the  conversation, 
never  ceased  for  more  than  an  instant  working  the  treadles 
of  her  Wheeler  and  Wilson.  Both  mother  and  daughter  were 


400  NEVER   AGAIN. 

disposed  to  be  particularly  communicative,  especially  upon 
the  subject  which  had  begun  to  be  of  most  interest  to  Luther. 
It  was  evident  that  some  degree  of  fear  had  sharpened  their 
dislike  of  their  late  neighbor,  and  his  personal  appearance 
was  described  in  such  vivid  and  picturesque  terms,  that  Luther 
left  the  house  with  not  a  doubt  upon  his  mind  that  the  late 
occupant  of  the  room  was  the  owner  of  the  face  he  had  seen 
peering  into  the  apartments  of  Madame  Steignitz,  and  that 
that  face  was  the  same  he  had  a  glimpse  of  in  the  street  by 
gas-light.  If  so,  it  was  clear  that  there  was  some  connection 
between  him  and  Mr.  Planly's  visitor. 

Mr.  Planly  must  be  found,  and  to  find  him  there  seemed 
to  be  no  clue,  except  through  the  stout  red-whiskered  truck 
man  who  had  carried  away  his  things  ;  that  might  be  a  job 
of  many  days. 

Luther  resolved  to  set  himself  resolutely  at  the  work,  and 
for  two  days,  from  early  morn  to  dewy  eve,  he  trudged  the 
city  in  all  directions,  examining  carts  and  furniture  trucks,  and 
hunting  up  stout  red-whiskered  draymen. 

It  was  wonderful  the  number  of  stout  red-whiskered  dray 
men  he  encountered.  They  seemed  to  start  up  in  all  direc 
tions.  He  had  never  noticed  half  a  dozen  red-whiskered 
draymen  before  in  his  life,  now  there  seemed  to  be  nothing 
but  red-whiskered  draymen.  Luther  was  astonished,  but  he 
had  a  scientific  turn  of  mind.  He  did  not  at  once  jump  to 
the  conclusion  that  there  had  been  a  sudden  cropping  out  of 
red  whiskers  among  the  fraternity,  but  the  apparent  pheno 
menon  was  due  to  his  own  sharpened  perceptions.  A  good 
illustration,  he  thought,  of  how  much  more  we  might  see  in 
the  way  of  natural  phenomena  if  we  looked  about  us  with  our 
mental  eyes  open. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

Light  Literature — The  Utility  of  Novels — Crossing  the  Ferry — An  Iinnu 
grant  Steamer — Bay  of  New  York. 

AT  the  end  of  the  third  day  Luther  retired  to  his  lodg 
ings,  weary  of  foot  and  quite  discouraged  in  mind.  He 
did  not  wish  to  talk  to  Mr.  Whoppers.  He  had  nothing  to 
tell  him,  not  a  word  to  say  except  one,  and  that  was  "  fail 
ure  •"  so,  as  he  had  taken  a  late  luncheon  down  town,  and 
had  no  need  of  dinner,  he  mounted  at  once  to  his  own  room. 

But  he  was  not  long  allowed  to  remain  in  solitude — a 
slight  knock  at  his  door,  and  in  entered  the  irrepressible  edi 
tor  of  the  Universe. 

"  Ah,  youngster !  sitting  all  alone,  chewing  the  cud  of 
sweet  and  bitter  fancy.  I  saw  you  come  in  while  I  was  at 
the  dinner-table ;  you  looked  forlorn,  fagged  out — come,  tell 
us  all  about  it." 

"  I  have  literally  nothing  to  tell,"  replied  Luther. 

"Oh  yes  you  have,"  returned  Mr.  Whoppers.  "Every 
body  has  something  to  tell.  It  does  'em  good,  as  the  poet 

says,  to 

'  Slop  over  the  wearied  mind's  sad  thoughts 
Into  the  responsive  bosom  of  a  friend.' 

Come,  tell  me  all  about  your  ill-luck.  I  ask  it  for  your  sake, 
not  mine.  For  what  says  Pythagoras  ?  '  Cor  ne  edite — eat 
not  the  heart,'  which,  according  to  Lord  Bacon,  means  that 
unless  we  talk  of  our  troubles  to  a  friend  we  are  cannibals  of 
our  own  hearts.  Now,  I  know  you  havn't  any  heart  to  nib 
ble  at,  but  you  may  as  well  tell  me  what  you  have  been  doing 
to-day." 

"  I  have  been  walking  and  riding  fifty  miles  ;  asking  about 
26 


402  NEVER  AGAIN. 

five  thousand  questions  of  five  hundred  people,  and  filling 
that  to  no  purpose,"  and  Luther  jerked  his  note-book  into 
Mr.  Whoppers'  lap. 

"  Well,  now,  you  have  done  capitally.  I  hardly  thought  it 
was  in  you.  No  detective  could  do  more  or  better." 

"  But  it  don't  amount  to  anything." 

"  You  are  wrong — it  don't  seem  to  amount  to  anything, 
but  you'll  see  in  the  end.  Just  stick  to  it — I'll  bet  on  you. 
I  don't  want  any  better  evidence  than  this  note-book  ;  three 
hundred  -red-whiskered  cartmen  found  out  and  interviewed  in 
three  days,  to  say  nothing  of  general  miscellaneous  work 
among  whiskers  black,  brown,  gray,  and  dyed.  Good  !  very 
good  !  "  continued  Mr.  Whoppers,  raising  his  eye  over  the 
book, — "  faithful,  honest  work — you  see  I  am  such  a  lazy 
man,  such  a  procrastinating  shirk  myself,  that  there  is  nothing 
in  this  world  I  so  much  admire  as  good  honest  work.  I  am 
sure  you  ought  not  to  be  discouraged.  Don't  you  see  you 
are  rapidly  eliminating  the  great  city  of  New  York  ?  Keep 
on  eliminating,  and  you  may  be  sure  that  you  will  come 
sooner  or  later  upon  the  unknown  desideratum — the  veritable 
X  of  a  cartman  will  turn  up  somewhere  in  the  solution. 

"  I  see  you  are  tired  out,"  added  Mr.  Whoppers  after  a 
pause.  "  You  need  a  little  stimulus.  No,  I  don't  mean  wine- 
bitters,  or  a  gin  cocktail,  but  a  little  mental  stimulus,  and  I 
happen  to  have  a  small  dose  for  you.  I  saw  somebody  to-day. 
Yes — just  for  a  moment.  She  said  she  hoped  you  would  per 
severe  and  find  out  something  about  the  old  woman.  No  di 
rect  message  pon  my  word.  Her  father  was  present,  and  I'll 
tell  you  what  I  think.  I  think  the  old  man  is  going  to  jump 
his  rails.  I  do.  He  looks  bad,  and  somehow  his  vanity  and 
conceit  seem  to  be  fizzling  out  of  him.  He's  an  altered  man, 
and  if  he  was  not  so  rich,  and  so  confoundedly  respectable,  I 
should  say  he  had  a  big  lump  of  something  on  his  mind. 
Helen  seems  to  feel  that  there  is  danger,  and  she  looks  troub 
led,  but  the  rest  of  the  family  are  quite  jolly.  Count  Isenthal 
seems  to  be  there  pretty  much  all  his  time.  I  kind  of  conceit 
that  the  little  god  has  got  his  arrow  in,  clean  through  the  fel- 


NEVER    AGAIN. 


4°3 


low's  pericardium.  Oh,  you  are  willing  to  talk  now  are  you  ? 
Well,  I've  nothing  more  to  say,  and  no  more  time  to  say  it  in. 
I  must  finish  at  least  a  dozen  book-notices  to-night,  and  get 
'em  in  early  to-morrow,  as  the  foreman  wants  to  lock  up  the 
form  by  eleven  o'clock.  You're  tired  ;  now  go  to  bed  soon. 
Don't  sit  up  mopy  and  miserable,  and  don't  let  any  light  lit 
erature  weigh  upon  your  brain.  Light  literature  indeed  ! 
Heavy  literature  it  should  be  called.  I  see  you  have  got  Miss 
Rousentales'  forty-ninth  ;  I  am  going  to  write  a  puff  of  it  :  a 
charming  book — intensely  interesting  ;  original  plot,  devised 
and  developed  with  the  well-known  constructive  skill  of  the 
accomplished  authoress  ;  style  pure  and  powerful,  and  such  a 
tremendous  knowledge  of  the  depths  of  human  feeling  and 
passion,  and  of  all  the  actions,  and  reactions  and  interactions 
of  the  profoundest  social  influences.  A  book  that  ought  to 
be  in  the  hands  of  every  man,  woman  and  child  in  the  coun 
try.  That's  the  style,  or  rather  that  was  the  style,  but  I  am 
going  to  give  it  up,  and  I  am  glad  to  see  that  some  of  the 
daily  we-we's  are  doing  the  same  thing.  If  we  were  only 
honest  and  united  we  might  put  a  dam — I  don't  mean  the  one 
with  an  n  to  it — that  kind  is  put  easy  and  often — but  a  regu 
lar  dam  to  this  flood  of  leaden  trash.  It  ought  to  be  done  in 
the  interests  of  humanity.  Ah,  a  good  idea  that, — I  will 
recommend  it  to  Bergh  and  his  society  for  the  prevention  of 
cruelty  to  animals.  If  the  hatters  should  revive  the  fifty- 
pound  leaden  scull-cap  of  the  old  judicial  torture  system, 
wouldn't  he  be  down  upon  them,  and  make  his  power 
felt,  eh  ?  Well,  the  pressure  on  the  brain  of  this  kind  of 
thing  is  far  greater,  and  the  torture  more  excruciating.  It's 
worse  than  the  old  dropping  water  torture.  Drop !  drop ! 
drop  ! — one,  two,  three,  half-a-dozen  novels  a  day.  It's  ter 
rible." 

"  Look  here,  now,  Whoppers,"  interrupted  Luther ;  "you're 
a  great  fellow  to  talk  in  that  way.  It  isn't  more  than  ten 
days  ago  that  you  were  lecturing  Mr.  Boggs  and  myself  upon 
the  vast  utility  of  novels.  Didn't  you  say  that  we  cannot 
over-estimate  the  utility  of  novels  ;  that  they  are  useful  for  in- 


404  NEVER  AC 

struction  as  well  as  amusement ;  that  they  stir  up  the  stolid 
intellects  of  the  masses,  lighten  the  tedium  of  life,  lift  thou 
sands  of  people  above  the  dull  realities  that  surround  them, 
and  give  them  almost  the  only  ideas  they  have  of  beauty  and 
culture,  and  ideal  sweetness  and  gentleness  ?  Didn't  you  say 
all  that  ?  Consistency  is  a  jewel." 

"  I  know  it  is,  my  dear  boy,  but  I'm  not  a  city  official  ;  I 
am  an  editor,  and  I  can't  afford  to  wear  jewels.  Well,  well, 
it  only  shows  that  there  is  more  than  one  side  to  any  ques 
tion,  and,  like  the  intemperate  teetotaller,  we  are  all  of  us  apt 
to  confound  uses  with  abuses.  It  takes  a  flood  of  trash,  I 
suppose,  to  secure  us  a  few  good  novels,  just  as  it  took  five 
hundred  or  a  thousand  daubers,  of  whom  we  have  no  record, 
to  make  a  Raphael  or  a  Domenichino  ;  so  we  must  try  to 
direct  and  restrict  the  flood,  not  arrest  it." 

"  Dam  it  with  an  n"  said  Luther. 

"  Exactly  !  And  do  you  know,  Luther,  I  seriously  think 
of  writing  a  novel  myself." 

"  Going  to  pitch  yourself  into  the  flood,  eh  ? " 

"  I  suppose  so  ;  one  can't  judge  of  these  kind  of  things  for 
one's  self  beforehand.  But  what  of  that  ?  I  have  never  seen  a 
lot  of  children  in  all  my  watering-place  experience  that  have 
ever  excited  in  my  mind,  towards  their  parents,  the  slightest 
emotion  of  envy.  Well,  what  right  have  I  to  suppose  that  my 
children  would  be  one  bit  handsomer,  or  more  engaging,  or 
better  trained  ?  and  yet  is  that  consideration  going  to  prevent 
me  from  trying  the  thing  on,  and  some  day  launching  out  into 
all  the  glories  of  paternity  ?  So  with  my  novel.  I  am  going  to 
write  it  for  the  fun  of  the  thing — pour  irfamuser,  as  we  say, 
now  that  we  have  got  to  talk  French  so  beautifully,  and  I 
shall  publish  it." 

"  Pour  amieser  la  publique"  said  Luther. 

"  I  hope  so  ;  and  elevate  and  instruct,  and  all  that  kind  of 
thing ;  but  mainly  because  I  am  naturally  a  very  lazy  man, 
and  can't  afford  to  throw  so  much  labor  away.  As  to  its  re 
ception,  no  author  can  predict  anything  about  that ;  so  much 
depends  upon  style,  and  incident,  and  treatment,  and,  above 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


405 


all,  upon  the  characters,  and  in  that  particular  you  are  more 
interested  than  I  am." 

"  Ho»v  so  ? "  demanded  Luther. 

"  Why,  I  am  going  to  put  in  you  and  your  old  woman." 

"  Oh,  get  out  with  you !  "  impatiently  exclaimed  Luther. 

"A  nice  parting  salutation,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Whoppers, 
rising  and  opening  the  door  ;  "  very  nice,  indeed.  If  my 
memory  fails  me  not,  you  have  three  times  in  the  couse  of 
your  life  told  me  to  go  to  the  devil,  but  you  have  never  yet, 
until  this  moment,  told  me  to  get  out.  A  nice  exclamation,  sir. 
I  will  put  it  in  my  novel,  sir  ;  we  will  see  how  you  will  like 
it  then— we  will  see  how  the  public  will  like  it,  sir.  May  you 
live  to  repent,  sir,"  continued  Mr.  Whoppers,  hastily  closing 
the  door  in  time  to  intercept  one  of  Luther's  slippers  that 
was  flying  through  the  air.  "  May  you  live  to  repent,  sir,  is 
the  only  prayer  of  yours,  affectionately,  J.  T.  W." 

The  next  moment  Mr.  Whoppers  put  his  head  again  into 
the  room.  "  I'll  tell  you  what,  Luther,  an  idea  has  just  oc 
curred  to  me  that  may  save  you  much  labor  and  time,  and 
that  is  to  inquire  at  all  the  ferries.  It  will  not  take  long  to  do 
so,  and  you  will,  perhaps,  find  some  one  connected  with  the 
boats  who  will  recollect  such  a  striking-looking  man,  with  a 
load  of  queer-looking  traps,  if,  as  I  am  inclined  to  believe,  he 
has  left  the  city  and  crossed  either  of  the  rivers.  Good-night, 

my  dear  boy  ; 

'  May  slumbers  light, 
Hold  thee  all  night, 
Till  morning  bright.' 

— as  Syllycus  Italicus,  or  some  other  cuss,  says." 

It  was  a  happy  suggestion  that  Mr.  Whoppers  made,  as 
Luther  found  upon  his  application  at  Canal  Street  ferry.  At 
first  the  gate-keeper  rather  gruffly  replied  that  it  was  absurd 
»o  suppose  that  he  could  remember  any  person,  or  any  thing, 
that  had  come  and  gone  two  or  three  weeks  ago  ;  besides  "that 
he  might  not  have  been  on  duty.  But  as  he  talked,  youth, 
good  looks,  and  good  manners  exerted  their  usual  influence. 
His  mien  softened,  and  his  tone  became  more  subdued,  and 


406  NEVER  AGAIN. 

the  end  of  five  minutes  found  him  listening  with  signs  of 
marked  interest  to  so  much  of  the  story  as  Luther  judged  it 
proper  to  tell. 

"  Let  me  see  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "About  two  weeks  ago,  you 
say,  and  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning.  There  wouldn't 
be  a  great  many  people  crossing  over  from  this  side  at  that 
hour.  You  say  he  was  a  tall  man,  with  a  wide-brimmed  hat, 
and  long,  straggling  white  hair,  and  a  cart  loaded  with  an  old 
forge  and  a  lathe,  and  tool-chests,  and  an  old-fashioned  brass- 
nailed  trunk,  and  bedding,  and  iron  bedstead  ?  " 

As  the  gate-keeper  slowly  enumerated  the  list,  Luther  re 
plied  with  an  emphatic  nod  of  the  head. 

"Well,  now,  do  you  know  if  it  wasn't  for  the  cart  I  almost 
think  I  do  recollect  something  of  the  kind.  Are  you  sure  it 
was  a  cart  ? " 

"  By  no  means,"  replied  Luther.  "  It  may  have  been  a 
two-horse  dray ;  in  fact,  now  I  think  of  the  load  of  things 
there  was  to  carry,  and  that  the  old  cobbler  in  the  basement 
seems  to  have  an  idea  of  two  horses,  the  more  inclined  I  am 
to  think  that  it  must  have  been  a  double  team." 

"  The  old  fellow's  hair  came  clear  down  on  to  his  shoul 
ders  ;  and  did  he  wear  an  old  plaid  cloak,  with  one  of  those 
old-fashioned  brass  chains  and  hook  to  fasten  at  the  neck  ? 

"  Well,  then,"  continued  the  gate-keeper,  after  a  pause, 
"  I  think  I  have  got  your  man." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  eagerly  demanded  Luther,  his  voice 
trembling  with  his  excitement. 

"  Yes  ;"  and  the  gate-keeper  deliberately  nodded  his  head 
three  or  four  times.  "  Yes,  sir  ;  and  your  drayman  to  match 
— red  whiskers  and  all.  I  got  into  a  boggle  with  him  about 
making  change.  He's  from  the  other  side.  I  don't  know 
him  myself,  but  I'll  tell  you.  Jim  Waters,  one  of  the  hands 
on  the  boat  that  is  just  coming  in,  knows  him,  for  I  saw  them 
shake  hands,  and  heard  him  ask  how  his  folks  were.  That's 
Jim  there,  just  throwing  off  the  guard-chain.  I'll  introduce 
you." 

"  Hollo,  Jim  !  here's  a  friend  of  mine  going  over  wants 


XF.l'ER  AGAL\~ 


407 


to  ask  you  a  few  questions.  ;T\vorTt  hurt  you  to  answer.1'  and 
the  gate-keeper  turned  to  his  duties,  as  the  boat,  having  dis 
charged  its  contents,  was  now  ready  to  receive  the  long  line 
of  carts  and  carriages  of  all  kinds  waiting  an  entrance. 

Tinkle  sounds  the  pilot's  bell — plash  go  the  wheels — and 
the  boat  shoots  out  into  one  of  the  most  magnificent  and  in 
teresting  panoramas  in  the  world.  As  she  recedes  from  her 
berth  all  the  littleness  of  brick  and  mortar,  all  the  meanness 
of  decaying  wooden  docks,  all  the  squalor  of  the  markets, 
and  filth  and  stench  of  the  streets,  slip  away  into  the  distance, 
as  slips  away  the  crime,  the  sin,  the  misery,  the  rudeness,  the 
ignorance  of  the  past,  into  the  obscuring  distance  of  history, 
leaving  nothing  for  our  observation  but  the  wavy  and  mellow 
outlines  of  the  classical  and  chivalric  institutions,  the  more 
brilliant  tints  of  social  and  political  groupings,  or  the  loftier 
sunlit  towers  and  spires  of  buried  genius.  In  this  way  the 
city  glorifies  itself  as  it  recedes,  and  the  delighted  passenger  at 
the  stern  of  the  ferry-boat  glances  backward  and  exclaims, 
"  How  beautiful !  how  grand  !  "  Really,  New  York,  if  one 
only  gets  far  enough  from  it  for  a  proper  view,  is  the  most 
lovely  city  in  the  world.  Sighing  a  sigh  of  melancholy  pleas 
ure,  he  walks  to  the  bow  to  take  in  more  fully  the  glorious 
natural  features  of  a  scene  that  needs  no  mellowing,  or  rather 
obscuring  circumstance,  to  enhance  its  beauty.  The  broad, 
placid  bay  shimmering  in  the  morning  sun,  and  tickled  here 
and  there  into  rippling  smiles  by  the  playful  breeze ;  the 
grand  reach  of  water  stretching  through  the  Narrows  into  the 
lower  bay,  and  thence  onward  throughout  and  around  the 
world  ;  the  noble  river  on  the  other  side,  bearing  on  its  flood 
of  waters  more  wealth  in  loaded  barge  and  boat  than  ever 
poured  into  Venice  or  Lisbon,  when  those  two  cities  were  in 
turn  sole  "  marts  of  Inde ; "  the  distant  out-posts  of  the 
ranged  Palisades  on  the  one  hand  ;  the  hills  of  Weehawken 
and  Hoboken  in  front ;  and  the  rounded  heights  of  Staten  Isl 
and  on  the  left — all  make  up  a  picture  of  unmatched  magnifi 
cence,  especially  to  an  American  who  has  cultivated  the  habit, 
as  all  good  Americans  do,  of  modifying  his  perceptions  of 


408  NE  VER  A  GA  IN. 

what  is  by  glimpses  of  what  maybe.  To  him  appear  visions 
of  the  magnificent  stone  docks,  the  beautiful  elevated  belt 
railroads,  the  magnificent  bridges,  with  arches  spanning  a 
million  of  masts  and  steam-funnels,  and  springing  from  but 
tresses,  or  swinging  from  towers  that  pierce  the  clouds. 

If  anything,  then,  is  really  wanting  to  the  view  that  one 
gets  from  a  Hoboken  ferry-boat  in  mid-passage,  it  is  more 
than  made  up  by  this  aura,  or  ether  of  suggested  probabili 
ties,  that  bathes  the  whole  scene  in  its  peculiar  and  heavenly 
light.  This  alone  more  than  makes  up  for  the  superior  height 
and  grander  form  of  the  green  slopes  that  gird  the  magnifi 
cent  bay  of  Rio,  or  for  the  wider  sweep  and  darker  blue  of  the 
beautiful  water  sentried  by  stately  Capri,  and  across  which 
raging  Vesuvius,  belching  smoke  and  flames,  and  lashing  his 
flanks  with  rocks,  forever  threatens  the  Syren  city,  v 

It  would  be  unreasonable,  then,  it  would  be  wrong,  to  ex 
pect  that  a  foreigner  should  quite  come  up  in  his  estimate  of 
New  York  bay  and  harbor  to  the  conceptions  of  an  enthusi 
astic  native,  especially  one  whose  imagination  has  never  been 
blunted  by  contact  with  the  hackneyed  glories  of  the  old 
world. 

There  was  a  large  steamer  just  dropping  anchor.  The 
ferry-boat  passed  so  close  to  her  that  the  faces  of  the  emi 
grants  who  crowded  her  forward  deck  were  distinctly  visible. 
What  more  impressive  object  ?  what  more  vivifying  adjunct 
of  natural  scenery?  what  more  suggestive  subject  of  specula 
tion  ?  that  is,  of  speculation  mental.  The  other  kind  of  spec 
ulation,  the  speculation  of  runners  and  touters,  and  sharks 
and  swindlers  of  every  degree,  has,  thanks  to  the  Board  of 
Emigration  Commissioners,  been  pretty  nigh  destroyed.  But 
for  mental  speculation  nothing  can  equal  her.  Look  at  her 
as  she  swings  to  her  moorings,  with  a  thousand  anxious  faces 
gazing  over  her  bulwarks  and  peering  down  into  the  steam- 
barges  drawn  up  to  her  sides,  and  say  if  that  great  floating 
dice-box,  ready  to  cast  its  cubes  of  humanity  out  upon  the 
tables  of  the  West,  is  not  the  most  interesting  and  suggestive 
thing  in  the  harbor. 


VEVER  AGAIN.  409 

She  has  had  a  happy  passage,  perhaps  •  she  has  brought 
her  charge  kindly  to  port ;  she  was  not  "  built  in  the  eclipse 
or  rigged  with  curses,"  but  who  can  tell  how  many  curses 
dark,  how  many  sighs  and  groans,  went  to  make  up  that 
cargo — a  cargo  of,  perhaps,  equally  mingled  hopes  and  fears, 
but  of  also  very  far  from  equally  mingled  joys  and  sorrows  ; 
a  freight  of  human  passions  and  affections  and  memories  ;  a 
load  of  God-made  flesh  and  blood  squeezed  out  from  home 
and  fatherland  by  institutions  heavy  as  hoary ;  or,  as  Mr. 
Whoppers  would  say,  an  ark  full  of  wild  animals  escaping  from 
the  heavy  reigns  of  the  Old  World  to  the  milder  showers  and 
more  genial  clime  of  Democracy. 

Luther  stood  entranced.  The  huge  ship  and  •  its  freight 
of  life  dropped  into  his  consciousness  with  an  effect  similar 
to  that  of  a  piece  of  stick  or  string  into  some  saturated  saline 
solution.  A  whole  host  of  fancies  and  historic  memories  in 
stantly  coalesced  and  crystallized  around  her ;  and  into  his 
imagination  sailed  the  emigrant  barks  and  galleys  of  all  time 
past.  Here  was  the  Mayflower,  with  her  load  of  sturdy  Prot 
estant  bigots,  bearing  with  them  the  seeds  of  a  liberty  they 
little  dreamed  of.  There  were  the  fleets  of  Spain,  loaded 
with  hosts  of  Catholic  fanatics  eager,  with  sword  and  rack,  to 
destroy  a  more  promising  civilization,  and  a  religion  hardly 
less  cruel  and  bloody  than  their  own.  There  were  the  staunch 
barks  of  the  Northmen  following  in  the  wake  of  their  fierce 
Vikings,  and  landing  their  cargo  of  women  and  children  upon 
the  banks  of  the  Humber  and  the  shores  of  Normandy. 
There  were  the  crowded  boats  of  the  Saxon,  as,  bearing  in 
his  veins  the  blood  of  empire,  he  swarmed  to  the  New  World 
of  Hengest  and  Horsa.  There  were  the  countless  emigrant 
galleys  of  Greece  tracking  the  victorious  trireme  to  the  shores 
of  Sicily  and  the  mouths  of  the  Rhone,  or  up  the  coast  of 
Ionia  and  through  the  yawning  jaws  of  the  Symplegades. 
There  was  the  tall  ship  of  unfortunate  Dido,  and,  following  in 
its  wake,  the  barks  of  pious  ^Eneas  and  his  friends.  There 
were  the  boats  of  Cadmus  loaded  with  the  weight  of  an 
Alphabet — the  coracles  of  migratory  hordes  in  the  bronze 


4io 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


age  ;  the  supporting  rafts,  bladders,  and  blown-up  skins  of  the 
stone  age  ;  and  so  on,  away  back  unto  the  time  when  a  tribe 
of  the  hairy,  pointed-eared  arboreal  quadrumane,  from  whom 
we  are  descended,  first  straddled  a  lot  of  logs,  and,  favored 
by  wind  and  tide,  crossed  a  reach  of  water  to  a  land  of  bigger 
nuts  and  larger  roots,  with  the  small  game  more  tame  and 
plentiful  :  or,  still  further  back,  and  Luther  could  not  but 
smile  at  the  funny  sight,  as,  with  his  mind's  eye,  he  caught  a 
view  of  a  herd  of  our  ancestors,  when  in  the  marsupial  state, 
on  their  migrations,  and  while  crossing  a  river  in  precisely  the 
way  still  practised  by  our  squirrels  of  the  present  day — each 
human  potentiality  seated  upon  a  large  strip  of  bark,  with 
his  broad  tail  curled  up  over  his  back  to  catch  the  favoring 
breeze.  Luther  smiled,  and  any  one  would  have  smiled  to 
have  seen  the  little  ones  peeping,  with  anxious  curiosity,  from 
their  snug  maternal  pouches,  as  the  whole  fleet  swept  on  to  a 
new  world,  bearing  in  its  perilous  course — that  is,  if  these 
may  be  supposed  to  be  the  ancestors  of  that  particular  tribe 
of  arboreans  who  were  the  ancestors  of  our  progenitors  the 
Aryans — the  destinies  of  civilized  and  Christianized  human 
ity.  Ah !  who  can  think  without  a  shudder  of  the  possibili 
ties  had  a  sudden  storm  dashed  those  frail  barks  to  pieces, 
or  had  gigantic  saurians  from  below,  or  pterodactyls  from  above, 
pouched  that  exposed  herd  of  migratory  marsupials  in  their 
ruthless  maws  ?  The  whole  world  would  have  been  given  over 
to  the  Semitic,  the  Ethiopian,  and  the  heathen  Chinee.  True 
religion  would  have  been  nowhere.  The  avid  and  fertile  field 
for  the  cultivation  of  all  that  is  truly  pious,  and  good,  and 
true,  afforded  by  the  Aryan  mind  would  have  been  wholly 
wanting.  Charles  Martel  would  never  have  fought  the  battle 
of  Tours,  and  all  discussion  as  to  what  might  have  been  if  he 
had  not  then  and  there  slain  three  hundred  thousand  Moslems 
would  have  been  not  only  useless,  but  impossible. 

It  may  seem  improbable,  especially  to  the  slow-minded 
reader,  that  Luther  could  have  compassed  such  afar-reaching 
train  of  thought  in  the  three  minutes  that  the  ferry-boat  occu 
pied  in  passing  the  steamer,  but,  as  has  been  before  said,  he 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


411 


was  a  youth  of  a  very  active  imagination,  and  there  is  no  say 
ing  that  he  might  not  have  run  back  to  the  Ascidian  grand 
father  of  everything  human,  just  as  the  old  fellow  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  tuck  up  his  tunic,  tear  himself  from  his  ances 
tral  rock,  and  float  away  to  some  spot  more  favorable  for  de 
velopment — some  nook  where  higher  floods  and  lower  ebbs 
would  enable  his  family  to  go  under  deeper,  and  come  out 
higher  and  dryer,  and  otherwise  better  train  themselves  for 
their  great  destinies — we  say  Luther's  imagination  might  have 
run  back  to  the  extreme  links  of  the  chain  connecting  a  Bre 
men  immigrant  steamer  with  the  lower  eocene,  had  his  musings 
not  been  cut  short  by  the  voice  of  Jim  Waters. 

"  You  want  to  speak  to  me  about  something  ?  Well,  sir, 
I'm  agreeable.  What  is  it  ? " 

Luther  stated  his  case,  to  which  Jim  responded  with  a  mem 
ory  perfectly  clear  and  lively.  "  Recollected  the  drayman  of 
course.  He  was  an  old  friend  of  his.  Talked  with  him  when  he 
first  crossed  in  the  morning,  and  talked  with  him  upon  going 
back  with  his  load.  In  fact  he  knew  Mr.  Planlyby  sight;  had 
seen  him  on  the  boat  several  times.  Couldn't  tell  exactly 
whereabouts  in  Hoboken  the  drayman  lived ;  but  Lord  !  that 
was  easy  enough  to  find  out ;  just  inquire  at  Tim  Casey's, 
where  he  always  hangs  out  o'nights  ;  guessed  he'd  got  a  slate 
at  Casey's  ;  but  they'll  know  where  he  lives  at  any  rate.  His 
name  is  Downey — William  Downey — and  just  as  likely  as  not 
he  is  at  this  moment  to  be  found  right  round  the  corner,  at 
the  stand  in  first  street  from  the  dock." 

This  last  suggestion  proved  to  be  correct,  and  relieved 
Luther  from  the  necessity  of  calling  at  Tom  Casey's.  The 
only  drayman  in  sight  was  a  stout,  red-whiskered  man,  and  in 
person  corresponded  so  closely  to  the  idea  of  the  man  he  was 
in  search  of,  that  Luther  had  hardly  a  doubt. 

"  Your  name  is  Downey,  is  it  not  ? "  he  demanded, 
politely  touching  his  hat. 

"  That's  my  name,  sir.     Anything  I  can  do  for  you  ? " 

"  I  want  to  find  the  address  of  Mr.  Planly.  You  brought 
a  load  of  things  for  him  about  three  weeks  ago.  I  have  lost 


412 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


his  address.  I  am  a  friend  of  his,  and  I  want  very  much  to 
find  him." 

"  You  do  ?  Well,  do  you  know  I  rather  think  that  Mr. 
Planly  don't  care  about  his  friends  finding  him.  Don't  know 
anything  about  it,  but  that's  my  opinion." 

"  He'll  be  willing  to  see  me,  I'm  sure,"  replied  Luther. 

"  You're  sure  of  that  ?  You  haven't  come  to  bother  the 
old  fellow  about  any  money  troubles,  have  you  ?  Haven't 
any  little  papers,  and  that  kind  of  thing  about  ye,  eh  ?  Well, 
you  don't  look  like  it.  I  guess  you're  right.  You'll  find  him, 

I  guess,  in  a  back  building  in  Street,  between 

Don't  know  the  number,  but  you  go  in  by  an  alleyway  in  the 
middle  of  the  block." 

Luther  waited  not  for  further  conversation,  but  eagerly 
started  off  up  the  street. 

"  Don't  know,"  muttered  red-whiskered  Bill  Downey,  "  if 
I  have  done  exactly  the  fair  thing  by  the  old  fellow  in  setting 
that  young  one  on  him.  However,  it's  none  of  my  busi 
ness." 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

How  to  begin  a  Chapter — Inventions  of  all  kinds — The  noiseless  Gun- 
Glimpses  of  Madame  Steignitz's  Fate — A  Clue  to  the  Bandits. 

IT  seems  with  almost  all  modern  writers  a  matter  de  rigueur 
to  commence  a  new  chapter  as  often  as  possible  with 
some  profound  reflection  ;  some  sententious  and  wisdom-laden 
saying  ;  or,  at  least,  an  illustrative  anecdote,  or  a  witty  re 
mark.  The  profound  reflection  is,  perhaps,  most  generally 
in  vogue.  It  is  the  easiest  to  come  at.  Have  you  not  a  vol 
ume  of  Proverbial  Philosophy  at  your  elbow  ? 

The  profound  reflection  can  be  drawn  out  to  any  length. 
The  old  illustration  of  the  divisibility  of  matter — the  coat 
ing  of  gold  upon  a  silver  wire — hardly  conveys  an  idea  of 
the  thinness  and  tenuity,  the  excessive  exility,  the  profound 
reflection  is  capable  of.  It  is  this  quality  which  enables  it 
best  to  serve  the  purpose  of  art  in  introducing  it.  The  reader 
may  skip,  if  he  or  she  pleases,  and  as  he  and  she  most  gen 
erally  do — especially  she, — but  the  profound  reflection  at  the 
head  of  a  chapter  produces  its  effect.  It  emphasizes  the 
break  and  rests  the  mind  by  marking  the  solution  of  a  weary 
ing  continuity.  Like  rocks  in  the  bed  of  a  shallow  stream, 
it  breaks  the  flow,  and  enables  you  to  perceive  how  deep  the 
water  is,  and  which  way  it  runs.  Like  a  dam,  it  checks  the 
current  of  narrative  until  you  have  accumulated  a  head  that, 
upon  suddenly  opening  your  sluice-gates,  will  carry  your 
rickety  raft  of  story  clear  over  the  flats  and  shoals  of  the 
following  chapter ;  or,  to  use  a  figure  better  suited  to  the- 
meridians  of  Maine  or  Michigan  than  to  those  of  New  York 
or  London,  the  profound  reflection  is  a  kind  of  boom  that 


414  NEVER  AGAIN. 

holds  the  saw-logs  of  incident  and  character  from  slipping 
over  the  dam  too  fast,  and  before  they  have  been  properly 
slit  up  into  beams,  boards,  and  laths,  suited  to  the  construct 
ive  capacity  of  the  general  reader's  mind. 

The  profound  reflection,  as  we  have  said,  can  be  skipped. 
It  generally  is  skipped.  It  is,  perhaps,  universally  skipped  ; 
and  an  instance  that  recently  came  under  observation  shows 
with  what  cool,  calculating  precaution,  with  what  deliberate 
malice  prepense,  the  thing  can  be  done. 

A  young  girl  of  fifteen  is  seated  in  one  corner  of  the  spa 
cious  and  elegant  drawing-room  of  Cozzens'  West  Point  hotel, 
poring  over  the  last  volume  of  a  fashionable  English  novelist. 
A  pencil  in  her  hand,  frequently  applied  to  the  page,  attracts 
attention,  and  to  her  enters  a  gentleman — loquitur. 

"  You  must  have  an  interesting  book  there,  Miss  Rosa, 
you  seem  to  be  so  absorbed  in  it ;  may  I  ask  the  title  ? '' 

"  It  is  '  Hiding  his  Light;  or,  Now  You  See  It  and  Now 
You  Don't  See  It.'  I  don't  like  it  much.  It's  awful  dull 
work  for  me.  I'm  not  reading  it  for  myself." 

"  Not  reading  it  for  yourself!  " 

"  No  ;  mother  and  sister  want  to  read  it,  and  they  make 
me  read  it  first  and  mark  all  the  passages  they  are  to  leave 
out — all  the  reflections  and  observations,  and  that  kind  of 
stuff,  you  know.  Mother  says  she'll  give  me  one  of  those 
Japanese  fans — they  only  cost  thirty  cents  at  Fountain's — and 
sister  promises  to  give  me  half  a  dollar.  I  am  sure  it's  worth 
more  than  that  to  read  every  word  and  mark  all  the  stuff, 
and  I  know  I  shan't  get  the  money — sister  never  does  pay 
her  debts." 

Could  the  author  himself  have  turned  over  the  pencilled 
pages  he  would  have  been  struck  with  admiration  at  the  an- 
erring  tact  with  which  the  young  girl  had  detupperized  his 
latest  and  best. 

Yes,  the  human  mind  is  lamentably  given  to  skipping.  It 
is  perhaps,  however,  lucky  that  it  is  so.  Lucky,  in  this  universal 
deluge  of  novels,  that  the  general  reader  always  skips — that 
he  loves  to  skip.  13ut  to  skip  it  is  necessary  to  have  some- 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


415 


thing  skipable.  It  won't  do  for  an  author  to  leave  out  all 
the  plums  from  his  pudding,  simply  because,  not  being  able 
to  put  in  the  genuine  Malaga  No.  i  box — the  real  Saturday 
Review  article — and  having  nothing  but  the  common  "  keg" 
handy,  his  readers  will  pick  them  all  out  and  throw  them  dis 
dainfully  away.  The  veriest  skimmer  who  begins  a  novel  at 
the  end  and  reads  it  by  snatches  here  and  there  backward, 
wouldn't  be  satisfied  without  a  certain  amount  of  padding  and 
profundity. 

And  now,  having  dammed  our  narrative  long  enough  for  all 
the  necessities  of  profane  art,  we  will  turn  to  Luther,  who  has 
just  wriggled  himself  up  the  narrow  alley,  and  in  obedience  to 
a  sharp,  querulous  "  Come  in,"  is  pulling  at  the  cord  that  lifts 
the  heavy  wooden  latch  of  the  inventor's  door. 

Mr.  Planly  was  seated  at  a  strong  deal  table,  furnished 
With  a  vice,  and  covered  with  tools.  In  his  hand  he  held  a 
glass  disk  of  a  few  inches  in  diameter,  which  he  was  atten 
tively  examining.  This  disk  was  plainly  the  flint-glass  sec 
tion  of  the  object-glass  of  a  telescope.  There  was  a  deep  cut 
across  the  face  of  it,  almost  dividing  it  into  halves.  A  little 
more  work  and  the  division  would  be  complete. 

The  old  man  was  so  wholly  absorbed  in  his  work  that  he 
did  not,  for  an  instant,  recognize  his  visitor.  But  as  he  turned 
his  head  more  fully  towards  the  door,  Luther  noticed  that  he 
started,  and  that  a  frightened  expression  came  over  his  face, 
which,  however,  gradually  passed  as  the  young  man  came 
briskly  forward  and  shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand. 

"  You  see  I  have  found  you  out,"  said  Luther.  "  I  hope  I 
am  welcome.  I  know  you  don't  want  to  be  interrupted  by 
visitors,  but  I  thought  that  you  would  not  object  to  see  me.  I 
am  so  anxious  to  know  how  all  the  inventions  come  on  I 
couldn't  wait  any  longer." 

"  You  came,  then,  of  your  own  motion — that  is,  no  one 
sent  you  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Planly.  "  I  mean,"  he  continued, 
seeing  Luther's  puzzled  look — "  I  mean  that  you  do  not  come 
at  the  instigation  of  the  old  woman." 

"  How  so  ? "  asked  Luther.    "  I  don't  exactly  understand." 


4i 6  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"  Well,  I  thought  she  might  have  got  you  to  hunt  me  out, 
but  it  was  ridiculous  to  suppose  so.  I  beg  your  pardon. 
You  are  not  her  agent,  it  is  true,  but  you  visited  her  so  often 
that  at  the  first  sight  of  you  I  could  not  but  connect  you  with 
her.  I  suppose  you  know  I  had  a  little  difficulty  about  my 
room.  She  insisted  upon  it  that  I  had  hired  it  by  the  month, 
whereas  I  distinctly  hired  it  by  the  week.  I  paid  her  for  the 
week  in  which  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  leave,  but  she  in 
sisted  upon  my  paying  for  the  remaining  fortnight ;  so,  to 
avoid  having  any  squabble,  I  took  advantage  of  her  absence 
that  morning  she  went  to  Staten  Island  and  just  quietly  packed 
up  and  cleared  out." 

"  You  need  not  have  taken  that  precaution,"  replied  Lu 
ther.  "  She  told  me  herself  in  the  evening  that  she  believed 
you  were  right,  and  that  you  were  the  only  really  honest  ten 
ant  she  had  in  the  house.  I  am  sure  she  would  not  have 
given  you  any  trouble." 

"  Well,  it  was  not  precisely  fear  of  the  old  woman  that 
made  me  steal  away  so  quietly,"  returned  Mr.  Planly ;  "  but 
to  tell  the  truth,  there  were  some  other  folks  that  I  wanted  to 
get  rid  of.  They  bored  me  a  good  deal,  and  took  up  too 
much  of  my  time,  and  as  I  wanted  a  larger  room  and  a  better 
place  to  work,  and  a  cheaper  rent,  I  thought  I  would  slip 
away  for  a  while  over  here." 

"  Why,  I  didn't  know  you  had  many  visitors.  I  have  never 
seen  but  two  in  your  room — that  Italian  fellow  and  myself — 
which  of  us  is  the  bore  you  ran  away  from  ? "  demanded 
Luther,  laughingly. 

Mr.  Planly  glanced  suspiciously  for  an  instant  at  the  young 
man. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  to  say,"  he  replied,  "  that  I  really  ran 
away  from  any  one  ;  but  I  have  taken  up  an  old  idea  of 
mine,  and  I  could  not  have  had  space  enough  to  work  it  out 
in  an  attic.  You  see  here  I  am  on  the  ground  floor ;  and  here 
I  have  an  old  glass-blower's  furnace — still  good  enough  for 
my  purposes.  I  am  going  to  try  some  experiments  in  making 
glass  for  optical  purposes.  Just  look  through  that." 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


417 


Mr.  Planly  handed  Luther  a  disk  of  ground  glass  about 
six  inches  in  diameter  and  an  inch  thick,  which,  at  two  points 
opposite  to  each  other,  upon  the  edge  or  periphery  of  the  disk, 
had  polished  spaces  of  about  an  inch  in  diameter. 

Luther  placed  one  of  these  to  his  eye  and  looked  through 
the  six  inches  of  solid  glass. 

"  Beautiful !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  How  wonderfully  trans 
parent.  I  can  see  through  it  as  plainly  as  through  the  thin 
nest  sheet  of  window-glass.  That  disk  must  be  perfect." 

"  You  think  so  ?  Well,  I  can  tell  you  that  it  is  probably 
very  far  from  perfect.  It  is  quite  likely  utterly  unfit  for  opti 
cal  purposes.  You  can't  tell  until  it  has  been  ground  into  a 
lens,  and  tried,  and  then,  perhaps,  you  will  find  that  you  have 
your  labor  for  your  pains.  There  may  be  nothing  that  you 
can  see  with  the  naked  eye,  but  the  delicate  waves  of  light 
from  a  star  or  planet  will  search  out  the  imperfections.  Your 
lens  may  be  made  with  the  greatest  accuracy,  the  curves  cal 
culated  with  mathematical  precision,  and  the  surfaces  polished 
with  the  utmost  nicety,  but  your  glass  is  far  from  pure  ;  and 
being  composed  of  materials  of  different  specific  gravities, 
will  have  in  different  portions  different  degrees  of  density,  and, 
in  consequence,  different  degrees  of  refractive  power.  It  is 
this  last  which  is  the  great  trouble.  Now,  my  improvements 
contemplate  not  only  making  glass  free  from  air-bubbles — 
free  from  all  the  load  of  impurities,  the  dust  and  dirt  that  the 
purest  air  contains — but  also  free  from  the  imperfections  that 
arise  from  the  different  gravities  of  the  materials  employed  in 
making  glass." 

A  long  explanation  of  the  principle  of  the  refracting  tele 
scope  followed,  to  which  Luther  listened  not  only  patiently 
but  with  interest,  but  which  it  would,  perhaps,  take  too  much 
of  our  space  and  the  reader's  time  to  give  here. 

.  "  I  am  not  a  young  man,"  continued  Mr.  Planly,  "  but  I 
may  live  to  see  the  time  when  some  Crassus  or  Crcesus  will 
find  a  fitting  use  for  one  of  the  vast,  overgrown,  and  appall 
ing  fortunes  which  the  rising  tides  of  population,  of  industry, 
and  luxury,  have  thrown  into  the  laps  of  our  rich  men,  in  sup- 
27 


4i8  NEVER  AGAIN. 

plying  the  imperative  demands  of  science.  There  must  come 
some  one  soon  who,  tired  of  a  wearing  heaping  up  of  riches — 
of  a  sordid  saving  on  the  one  hand,  or  a  vulgar  ostentation 
of  wealth  on  the  other,  and  indisposed  to  waste  his  money 
upon  the  questionable  schemes  of  a  reckless  and  demoralizing 
philanthropy,  or  a  mercenary  and  perfunctory  piety — will  set 
himself  and  his  fortune  to  the  task  of  opening  up  in  various 
ditections,  and  paving  with  dollars,  the  rugged  paths  of  ex 
perimental  research. 

"  Then,"  continued  Mr.  Planly,  waving  his  hands  in  an 
oratorical  manner,  "  we  shall,  perhaps,  see  a  refracting  tele 
scope  of  five  or  six  feet  aperture,  and  one  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  focal  length,  or,  in  fact,  one  of  twice  that  size  ;  an  instru 
ment  that  will  extend  the  boundaries  of  knowledge  to  the  far 
thest  realms  of  creation ;  that  will  make  us  minutely  acquain 
ted  with  the  structure  and  conditions  of  our  own  little  solar 
system  ;  that  will  reveal  the  countless  planetary  systems  that 
revolve  round  each  star  as  a  centre  ;  that  will  take  us  into  full 
vision  of  the  remotest  nebulae,  and  bring  us  face  to  face  with 
every  phase  in  the  manufactory  of  worlds.  But  I  am  making 
a  speech.  I  beg  pardon." 

"  Oh,  no  excuses  !  "  exclaimed  Luther.  "The  subject  is  a 
good  one.  I  am  only  sorry  you  have  so  small  an  audience. 
I  wish  old  Winergelt  could  hear  you.  He  might  take  it  into 
his  head  to  show  us  the  limitations  of  space,  and  reconcile  the 
finite  and  the  infinite.  But  you  must  first  show  him  how 
such  a  telescope  could  be  made." 

"Well,  that  I  am  going  to  do,"  replied  Mr.  Planly.  "I 
have  got  here  a  lot  of  glass.  I  am  going  to  ascertain  the  ex 
act  densities  and  specific  gravities  of  different  portions  ;  that 
is  to  start  with  ;  and  then  I  am  going  to  make  a  disk-shaped 
vessel,  or  pot,  to  melt  my  glass  in  ;  and  this  vessel  I  shall 
hang  on  trunnions,  and  keep  in  constant  revolution  while  the 
glass  is  in  a  liquid  state." 

"  Have  you  ever  tried  it  ? "  demanded  Luther. 

"  Yes,  in  a  small  way,  and  with  every  indication  of  suc 
cess.  But  it  is  too  expensive  for  a  poor  man  to  attempt  on  a 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


419 


large  scale.  Oh  !  if  old  Winergelt  would  devote  a.  hundred 
thousand  dollars  to  making  a  pot  of  glass  !  We  could  find 
pi-en ty  of  men  to  work  it  into  form  and  mount  it  afterward, 
even  if  it  weighed  a  ton." 

"  But  would  not  such  a  mass  be  liable  to  a  change  of  form 
in  different  positions,  from  the  effect  of  gravity  ?  "  asked  Lu 
ther. 

"  Undoubtedly ;  and  to  a  reflector  your  objection  would  be 
fatal.  But  a  huge  refracting  lens  would  not  suffer  so  much, 
and  I  am  satisfied  that  it  could  be  corrected  for  gravity,  and 
then  if  its  use  was  limited  in  space,  as  it  would  necessarily 
have  to  be  in  time,  from  the  disturbances  of  the  earth's  at 
mosphere,  I  don't  think  the  change  of  shape  from  weight 
would  prevent  it  from  doing  wonderful  work.  To  get  a  disk 
of  perfectly  pure  homogenous  glass  of  equal  density  through 
out  is  the  great  difficulty. 

"  Do  you  see  this  ?  "  continued  Mr.  Planly,  showing  Lu 
ther  a  complicated-looking  apparatus.  "Well,  this  is  a  model 
of  an  arrangement  by  which,  with  water  passing  through  these 
tubes,  covered  with  fire-clay,  I  could  hang  my  pot  of  glass  on 
gimbals  and  keep  it  revolving  in  every  direction  ;  but — "  and 
Mr.  Planly  shook  his  head  sadly — "  that  would  cost  a  great 
deal  of'money.  I  should  have  to  rob  your  old  woman  to  do 
that." 

The  perfectly  easy  and  natural  voice  in  which  Mr.  Planly 
made  the  last  observation  instantly  removed  certain  dim  sus 
picions  that  had  haunted  Luther's  mind.  He  felt  sure  that 
the  old  inventor  knew  of  nothing  that  had  happened  at  the 
house  in  Wooster  Street  since  his  departure. 

"  Ah !  you  are  too  late  for  that,"  he  replied.  "  Some  one 
has  been  before  you  in  that  business." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  demanded  Mr.  Planly,  with  a 
frightened  look. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  that  they  have  robbed  her  ;  but  they 
have  stolen  her — carried  her  off — perhaps  something  worse." 

"What !     Madame  Steignitz  carried  off?  " 

"  That's  my  belief — she's  gone — has  been  missing  for  ten 


420  NEVER  AGAIN. 

days.  The  police  seem  to  think — that  is,  if  they  take  the 
trouble  to  think  at  all  about  it — that  she  has  gone  off  of  her 
self  on  some  trip,  and  will  return  of  her  own  pleasure ;  but  I 
know  better." 

Luther  now  related  to  Mr.  Planly  all  the  circumstances  of 
the  case,  and  dwelt  particularly  upon  the  reasons,  physical  and 
moral,  which  convinced  him  that  the  old  woman  did  not  leave 
the  room  by  the  door,  or  of  her  own  will,  and  that  she 
would  not  have  left  her  home  for  so  long  a  time  without  letting 
him  know  her  intentions  during  the  evening  previous,  that  he 
had  passed  with  her. 

Mr.  Planly  listened,  hardly  asking  a  question,  but  with 
marks  of  interest  increasing  to  the  end.  As  Luther  concluded 
he  turned  away,  lifted  the  cover  of  a  glue-pot  simmering  over 
a  lamp,  and  seemed  for  a  moment  or  two  to  be  deeply  occu 
pied  in  examining  the  consistence  of  the  viscous  fluid.  "  I 
knew  it,"  he  muttered  to  himself  in  tones  so  low  that  Luther 
could  catch  only  here  and  there  a  word.  "  I  was  certain  of 
it.  But,  what  could  I  have  done  ?  Warned  the  old  woman  ? 
Warned  her  of  what?  Bah  !  she  would  have  laughed  in  my 
face  ; — but  I  might  have  known  it !  a  reckless,  desperate, 
daring  rascal,  if  ever  there  was  one  ! 

"  Do  you  suspect  any  one  ? "  he  demanded,  suddenly 
raising  his  head  and  looking  Luther  full  in  the  face. 

"I  do,"  replied  Luther,  nodding  his  head  emphatically, 
and  adding,  after  a  pause, — "  I  believe  you  do,  too,  Mr. 
Planly." 

"  And  that  some  one  is —  ? " 

"  Your  former  frequent  visitor,"  continued  Luther, — "  the 
small,  dark-complexioned  foreigner,  for  whom  you  were  doing 
•;ome  kind  of  work — making  some  kind  of  machine  which 
you  would  never  let  me  see.  I  overheard  a  few  words  of  his 
conversation  two  or  three  times.  I  saw  him  one  night  join  a 
man  waiting  for  him  in  the  street  just  after  a  visit  to  you,  which 
man  I  am  satisfied  is  the  owner  of  the  eyes  I  saw  peering  into 
the  window  of  Madame  Steignitz'  room.  So,  putting  all 
things  together,  I  am  satisfied  that  he  is  the  party  who  has 


NEVER  AGAIN.  421 

caused  the  disappearance  of  the  old  lady ;  with  what  object  J 
can't  exactly  make  out ;  she  never  carried  any  valuables  on 
her  person,  and  kept  no  money  in  her  room." 

"  Well,  that  is  a  point  upon  which,  perhaps,  I  can  enlighten 
you,"  deliberately  replied  Mr.  Planly.  "  The  old  woman 
couldn't  be  robbed — she  had  nothing  on,  or  about  her,  to 
steal, — she  has  been  carried  off  to  extort  money  from  her, — 
the  crazy  scheme  of  some  of  her  desperate  countrymen. 
They'll  stop  at  nothing." 

"  You  don't  think  that  she  has  been  murdered  ? "  demanded 
Luther. 

"  Not  yet,"  replied  Mr.  Planly.  "  You  see  there  would  be 
no  use  of  killing  her,  until  they  had  compelled  her  to  sign  a 
check,  or  an  order  for  any  unregistered  bonds  or  securities  she 
may  have.  That  they  wouldn't  kill  her  afterwards,  I  am  not 
so  sure.  But  the  old  woman  is  game,  she  won't  give  in  until 
the  last  moment.  You  have  been  to  the  bank  to  inquire  if 
anything  has  been  heard  of  her  ?  " 

Luther  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Well,  then,  they  haven't  got  anything  out  of  her  yet. 
She's  still  living,  but  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  they  were  employ 
ing  torture." 

"  Torture  ! "  exclaimed  Luther,  and  the  blood  for  an  instant 
forsook  his  cheeks,  and  his  heart,  oppressed  with  its  burden, 
thumped  like  a  lump  of  lead  against  his  ribs. 

"  Why  not  ?  What  more  natural  ?  You  have  plenty  of 
imagination — suppose  we  put  ourselves  for  a  moment  in  the 
position  of  the  two  men  we  suspect.  Ruined,  desperate,  and 
ruthless,  we  have  an  obstinate  old  woman  in  our  power,  and 
we  have  resolved  to  make  her  disgorge  the  one  thing  needful 
to  our  lives,  or  to  the  success  of  schemes  that  we  value  more 
than  life  itself.  She  won't  yield  !  Don't  you  think  that  the 
idea  of  some  cheap  and  easy  substitute  for  the  old-fashioned 
rack  and  thumb-screw  would  occur  to  such  ingenious  fellows 
as  we  are  ? " 

"  Could  such  a  thing  be  ! "  exclaimed  Luther.  "  Pooh  !  it 
must  be  impossible  in  this  age  and  country." 


422 


NEVER  A-GAIN. 


"  Not  at  all ;  there  is  no  form  of  crime  of  the  olden  day 
that  cannot  be  paralleled  in  the  present  age ;  that  could  not, 
in  fact,  be  repeated  if  the  occasion  called  for  it.  Certain 
crimes  are  now  really  impossible,  simply  because  of  a  change 
of  fashion,  not  because  of  any  improvement  of  the  moral 
sense.  The  credit  and  banking  systems  have  altered  things, 
and  valuables  are  not  so  easily  conveyed  as  they  used  to  be  ; 
but  don't  you  suppose  that,  if  a  reasonable  sum  could  be  made 
by  it,  there  are  plenty  of  men  in  this  city  who  would  undertake 
to  seduce  some  rich  Jew  into  a  quiet  apartment,  and  subject 
him  to  the  thumb-screws,  with  a  clever  dentist  standing  by, 
ready  to  pull  out  every  tooth  in  his  head  ? " 

"  You  have  no  objections,  I  suppose,  to  tell  me  what  you 
know  about  this  man  whom  you  admit  we  both  suspect?" 
inquired  Luther. 

"  No,  none,"  replied  Mr.  Planly,  thoughtfully  ;  "but  I  don't 
want  the  nature  of  my  connection  with  him  to  go  any  further 
than  yourself.  And  first  I  will  tell  you  how  I  got  acquainted 
with  him.  It  was  at  an  oyster  saloon  on  Broadway.  The 
room  was  full,  and  no  place  for  him  but  at  my  table.  I  was 
struck  with  his  looks,  his  glossy  beard  and  moustache,  and 
dangling  curls  of  black.  His  restless  dark  eyes,  his  firm,  well- 
cut  mouth,  and  a  general  expression  of  subdued  fierceness 
overlying  his  whole  face,  took  my  fancy.  I  could  not  tell 
then,  and  I  don't  know  yet,  whether  he  is  French  or  Italian. 
I  have  heard  him  speak  both  languages.  We  were  soon  in 
full  conversation,  and  when  I  had  finished  my  stew  he  asked 
me  to  join  him  in  a  glass  of  beer.  This  gave  us  still  more 
time  to  talk,  and  after  the  beer  we  strolled  up  Broadway 
together.  At  last  we  got  a-talking  about  inventions  and  im 
provements  in  fire-arms,  in  which  he  seemed  to  be  very  much 
interested.  I  told  him  about  my  breech-loading  cannon, 
which  I  spent  so  much  time  and  money  upon  thirty  years  ago, 
and  about  my  plan  for  casting  cannon  all  in  a  lump,  as  at 
present,  but  with  the  centre  composed  of  iron  having  great 
elasticity  or  power  of  expansion,  and  the  outside  layers  of  iron 
having  less,  so  as  to  compel  these  last  to  take  up  their  full 


NEVER  AGAIN.  423 

share  of  the  strain.  I  don't  think  I  ever  told  you  about  that, 
did  I  ?  " 

Luther  was  loath  to  reply  distinctly  no,  for  fear  of  diverting 
Mr.  Planly  from  the  more  immediate  subject  in  hand.  He 
merely  shook  his  head,  but  that  was  enough.  The  inventor 
at  once  rushed  to  one  corner  of  the  room,  rumaged  for  a  few 
minutes  in  a  box  half-filled  with  scraps  in  all  forms  of  wood, 
and  iron,  and  brass.  His  search  proved  successful. 

"  Look  here  now,"  he  said,  showing  two  disks  of  cast  iron, 
each  about  three  inches  across,  and  half-an-inch  thick.  Each 
one  had  been  bored  through  in  the  centre. 

"  You  see  there  two  disks,  or  flat  rings  if  you  please  to 
call  them  ;  they  look  like  a  pair  of  quoits  for  children.  Well, 
they  are  sections  of  iron  cylinders,  one  of  which  was  cast  out 
of  the  best  gun-metal,  the  other  was  cast  according  to  my 
plan,  with  the  most  expansible  iron  in  the  centre  and  the  most 
rigid  outside.  You  see  they  are  exactly  alike  in  looks  and 
size ;  with  the  hole  in  the  centre  exactly  an  inch  in  diameter. 
Now  if  you  take  the  first  one,  and  into  that  hole  you  insert  a 
tapering  steel  plug,  and  then  apply  a  sufficient  weight  to  the 
plug,  you  will  see  how  a  cannon  bursts.  As  the  plug  is 
pressed  in,  a  little  crack  begins  at  the  centre,  and  gradually 
extends  outwardly  as  the  pressure  is  increased.  That  is,  the 
ring  is  torn  in  two,  or,  in  other  words,  the  inner  layer  of  metal 
is  strained  a  great  deal  more  than  the  outer  layer,  and  gives 
way  first.  The  outer  layer  does  not  do  its  full  duty,  and  is 
not  put  to  the  full  stretch,  before  the  inner  layer  is  broken, 
and  then,  when  it  is  too  late,  it  has  to  yield,  itself,  in  turn. 
Now  take  the  other  disk,  and  insert  the  plug,  you  will  find  a 
different  state  of  things.  The  inner  layer  is  stretched  the 
most,  but  it  is  able  to  stand  being  stretched  the  most.  It  does 
not  give  way  until  the  full  strain  is  brought  in  an  equal  share 
upon  the  outside  layer.  You  will  find  that  it  takes  from 
twenty-five  to  thirty  per  cent,  more  weight  or  power  applied  to 
the  plug  to  burst  this,  than  the  other,  and  when  it  does  burst, 
it  gives  way  altogether.  That's  my  plan  for  casting  cannon. 
Hold  on  just  one  moment,  and  I  will  show  you  the  model  and 
drawings." 


424  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"  Not  now,  Mr.  Planly,"  exclaimed  Luther.  "  Some  other 
time  I  shall  be  delighted  to  go  into  the  subject,  but  just  now  I 
feel  as  if  I  had  not  a  moment  to  give  to  anything  but  the 
business  of  the  old  woman." 

"  You're  right,"  good  humoredly  replied  Mr.  Planly.  "  I 
quite  forget  myself.  However,  I  am  not  worse  than  some 
others.  I  knew  a  fellow  once,  he  had  nothing  in  his  head  but 
a  revolving  steam  boiler,  to  prevent  scale,  and  enable  high 
pressure,  without  condensers,  to  be  used  for  marine  engines. 
But  Lord,  you'd  better  insure  your  life  before  talking  with 
him — he'd  bore  you  to  death.  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  Mr. 
Fuiyard — that  is  the  name  he  gave  me — expressed  himself 
very  much  interested  in  all  these  things,  and  finally  it  ended 
by  his  coming  round  to  my  rooms  to  see  the  drawings  of  my 
plan  for  mounting  a  howitzer  or  carronade  upon  a  spar,  hinged 
to  the  stem  of  the  ship.  The  gun,  usually  carried  inboard, 
could  be  lowered  at  any  moment  five  or  six  feet  below  the 
surface  of  the  water,  and  fired  by  coming  in  contact  with  the 
side  of  an  adversary's  ship.  It  was  intended  to  have  all  the 
effect  of  the  present  beak  or  ram,  now  so  much  in  vogue,  but 
which  will  be  found  to  be  utterly  useless  so  soon  as  vessels  are 
furnished,  on  my  plan,  with  the  power  of  twisting  themselves 
around,  when  otherwise  motionless,  and  by  means  independent 
of  any  machinery  of  propulsion.  Well,  my  plan  for  mounting 
the  gun,  and  firing  it  under  water,  was  at  least  thirty  years  old. 
I  had  forgotten  pretty  much  all  about  it,  and  could  not  find 
the  drawings.  So,  we  talked,  and  he  was  about  to  take  his 
leave,  when  I  happened  to  say  something  about  a  noiseless 
gun." 

"  A  nofseless  gun  !"  exclaimed  Luther.  "  Do  you  mean  a 
gun  that  would  make  no  report  when  fired  ? " 

"Just  that." 

"  Well,  you  have  it  in  the  air-gun." 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  Mr.  Planly.  "  The  air-gun  is  a  very 
poor  and  inefficient  affair.  No,  I  mean  a  real  gun — accurate 
and  of  long  range,  one  that  will  put  a  bullet  through  a  man  at 
a  thousand  yards.  Well,  Mr.  Fuiyard  jumped  at  the  idea  ; — • 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


425 


said  that  if  I  would  make  such  a  gun  he  would  take  it 
over  to  Europe  and  get  an  immense  sum  for  it,  which  he  would 
share  with  me.  I  was  in  want  of  money,  as  you  know,  and  I 
listened  to  him,  and  as  he  was  really  eloquent,  I  got  more  and 
more  interested  and  excited." 

"  But  the  man  meant  murder !  "  interrupted  Luther.  "  I 
can't  conceive  the  use  for  such  a  gun,  especially  as  I  see  by 
your  model  that  it  must  be  a  cumbrous  apparatus,  except  to 
take  a  quiet  long  shot  at  some  offending  potentate.  That  man 
is  a  Red,  and  he  meant  to  sell  your  gun  out  to  some  secret 
radical  or  communistic  society." 

"  So  I  thought,  but  he  convinced  me,  for  a  while,  at  least, 
that  he  was  going  to  take  it  to  the  French  Emperor,  and  de 
mand  a  certain  sum  for  its  suppression.  He  seemed  to  have 
no  doubt  about  it.  The  facility  with  which  a  good  marksman 
could  establish  himself  in  a  distant  attic  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Seine,  or  in  the  Rue  de  Rivoli,  and  take  a  long  shot  at  the 
emperor,  or  the  young  prince,  every  time  they  appeared  in 
public,  without  giving  the  police  the  slightest  clue  to  his  hiding- 
place,  he  was  quite  confident  would  strike  the  imagination  of 
the  great  imperial  humbug,  and  that  almost  any  amount 
of  money  might  be  had  for  sinking  the  invention  right  out  of 
sight." 

"  But  I  should  think,"  said  Luther,  "  that  even  if  you 
succeeded  in  preventing  all  noise,  the  smoke  and  smell  of  the 
powder  would  render  it  impossible  to  use  such  a  gun  with  any 
great  certainty  of  secrecy." 

"Oh,  that  is  all  provided  for.  You  don't  suppose  I  would 
leave  such  an  element  as  that  out  of  the  calculation  ?  Perfectly 
pure  gun-cotton,  or  a  powder  composed  of  chlorate  of  potash, 
would  do  on  a  pinch  ;  but  I  have  a  composition  of  loaf  sugar, 
treated  in  a  certain  way,  and  combined  with  nitro-glycerine, 
that  is  perfectly  without  smoke  or  smell.  Mr.  Fuiyard  tried 
some  cartridges  I  prepared  for  him,  and  was  delighted  with 
them. 

"  Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  I  set  to  work  upon  the 
gun.  I  got  absorbed  in  the  preliminary  experiments  and  in 


426  NEVER  AGAIN. 

the  mechanical  details  of  the  invention.  I  hardly  gave  a 
thought  as  to  the  results  or  the  moral  questions  that  might 
arise." 

"  And  you  succeeded  ?  "  demanded  Luther. 

Mr.  Planly  nodded  his  head,  and  pointed  to  a  long  wooden 
box  resting  upon  trestles  at  one  side  of  the  room. 

"  Yes,  there  it  is  ;  I  can't  show  it  to  you,  and  T  can't  ex 
plain  it  to  you.  I  never  even  allowed  Mr.  Fuiyard  to  know 
anything  of  the  principle  or  details  ;  I  only  showed  him  the 
results  as  the  experiments  went  on.  You  see  there  were 
three  different  ways  of  attacking  the  subject — preventing 
vibrations,  absorbing  vibrations,  or  counteracting  vibrations  by 
vibrations — the  same  as  when  two  interfering  waves  of  light 
produce  darkness.  As  I  have  said,  for  reasons,  I  have  made 
up  my  mind  to  keep  the  secret  for  the  present  to  myself.  And 
I  cannot  tell  or  show  you  any  of  the  details,  but  I  will  just 
say  that  I  found  each  way  successful.  But  in  one  there  were 
so  many  advantages  that  I  have  finally  accepted  it,  and  there 
it  stands." 

Luther  stared  steadily  at  the  long  slender  box,  but  as  his 
eyes  were  unable  to  penetrate  a  pine  board  he  turned  and 
directed  them  to  Mr.  Planly,  who,  from  his  usual  subdued  and 
slouching  attitude,  had  drawn  himself  up  and  was  pointing  his 
ringer  with  the  proud  and  confident  look  of  a  successful 
inventor. 

"  You  doubt  it  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Planly.  "  Well,  I  can't 
show  you  the  machine,  but  I  can  show  you  its  effect,  with  the 
understanding  of  strict  secrecy  on  your  part." 

Mr.  Planly  paused,  and  Luther  nodded  his  head. 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  look  out  of  the  window  for  a  mo 
ment  while  I  charge  the  gun." 

Luther  had  hardly  time  to  turn  to  the  window  before  Mr. 
Planly  announced  that  he  had  finished  the  operation. 

"  We  will  now,"  he  continued,  "  extemporize  a  target  out 
of  these  inch  boards,"  and  taking  ten  of  them  he  placed  them 
one  over  the  other  against  the  wall,  and  facing  one  end  of  the 
tube,  which  was  furnished  with  a  trap-door,  opening  by  means 
of  a  spring. 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


427 


Mr.  Planly  placed  himself  at  the  other  end  of  the  box 
and  pulled  the  string  of  the  trap-door. 

•'  Now  look  and  listen,"  he  exclaimed.  "  I  am  going  to 
touch  this  little  wire  which  springs  the  lock." 

Luther  strained  eyes  and  ears.  He  could  see  nothing,  and 
he  could  hear  nothing  but  a  slight  hiss  and  the  thud  of  the 
bullet  against  the  target. 

The  bullet  had  gone  through  the  ten  boards  and  flattened 
itself  up  against  the  rough  brick  wall  of  the  room. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Planly,  put 
ting  his  fingers  into  the  deep  indenture  in  the  brick-work. 

"  It's  murder  made  easy,"  replied  Luther. 

"  It's  more  than  that,"  replied  Mr.  Planly,  impressively 
squeezing  Luther's  arm.  "It  is  murder  made  safe." 

"  Then  what  the  devil  possessed  you  to  invent  the 
thing  ? "  demanded  Luther. 

"  You've  hit  it  exactly.  I  suppose  it  was  the  devil ;  at  any 
rate  one  of  his  imps  urged  me  on,  and  to  get  rid  of  him  was 
the  main  reason  why  I  left  Wooster  Street.  I'll  tell  you  how  it 
was  :  I  had  begun  to  suspect  the  fellow  for  some  time.  I  found 
that  he  was  a  political  refugee,  and  a  most  furious  red  repub 
lican.  It  occurred  to  me  more  than  once  that  he  might  be 
humbugging  me,  and  that,  so  far  from  getting  any  money  for 
the  suppression  of  the  invention,  and  sharing  it  with  me,  he 
would  much  prefer  to  get  money  for  the  use  of  it  and  keep 
it  all  to  himself.  You  may,  perhaps,  think  that  this  last  idea 
quickened  my  perceptions  of  the  true  moral  bearings  of  the 
case.  Well,  perhaps  it  did,"  added  Mr.  Planly,  reflectively. 
"There  is  so  much  human  nature  in  man  that  one  can't 
always  tell  how  big  a  portion  of  it  he  has  himself.  At  any 
rate  I  began  to  feel  dubious  about  trusting  the  fellow  any  way. 
One  day  I  went  round  with  him  to  a  kind  of  restaurant  and 
drinking-shop  in  Prince  Street  for  a  glass  of  ale.  It  seemed 
to  be  a  place  of  resort  for  foreigners  only  ;  at  least  I  saw  none 
but  French  and  Italians.  A  few  days  afterward  I  happened 
in  there  again.  There  was  in  the  front  a  noisy,  chattering 
crowd,  and  among  them  a  party  of  quarrelsome  French  watch- 


428  NEVER   AGAIN. 

case  makers,  who,  according  to  weekly  custom,  were  drinking 
up  the  large,  easily  won  wages  of  the  last  days  of  the  week, 
by  a  carouse  on  Champagne,  lasting  the  first  three.  I  wan 
dered  into  the  back  room,  which  was  comparatively  quiet,  and 
put  my  mug  of  ale  upon  a  table  placed  close  to  a  window 
closed  with  a  wire  screen,  and  opening  on  to  the  back  piazza. 
The  glass  was  up,  and  there  was  nothing  but  the  screen  be 
tween  me  and  two  men  seated  at  a  table  on  the  piazza..  They 
were  busy  drinking  and  talking,  and  had  no  suspicion  of  any 
one  being  so  near.  I  at  once  recognized  my  friend,  Mr.  Fui- 
yard,  and  was  going  to  salute  him  through  the  window  when  I 
heard  some  allusion  to  the  gun.  You  know  I  understand 
French  tolerably,  and,  notwithstanding  there  was  a  good  deal 
of  patois  and  argot  too,  I  could  make  out  most  of  what  they 
said.  They  were  discussing  the  question  as  to  whether  it 
would  be  best  to  try  the  gun  on  the  little  one  or  on  the  old 
fellow  first.  I  was  not  left  long  in  doubt  as  to  who  were 
meant  by  these  terms. 

"  '  Kill  the  old  fellow,'  said  the  stranger,  '  and  we  shall 
have  afterward  to  kill  the  young  one,  and  his  mother  too. 
There  will  be  a  regency,  and,  perhaps,  a  strong  one,  and  God 
knows  how  long  it  may  last.  But  kill  the  little  one  and  there 
can  be  no  regency,  and  the  old  one  may  take  it  hard  and  die 
off  at  once,  and  at  any  rate  he  can't  last  long,  and  then — well, 
we  know  what  will  happen  then.' 

"  '  But  I  can't  let  the  old  fellow  off,'  returned  Mr.  Fuiyard, 
and  he  struck  the  table  and  rattled  out  a  volley  of  oaths,  half 
Italian  and  half  French.  '  I  have  watched  and  waited,  and 
prayed  for  an  opportunity  to  take  that  rascal's  life,  and  now 
here  comes  my  chance  ;  I  cannot  forego  it.  It  will  be  the 
happiest  moment  of  my  life  when  I  draw  a  bead  upon  that 
stumpy,  yellow-skinned,  fish-eyed  humbug,  as  he  slouches 
along  the  terrace,  or  squints  through  his  opera-glass  from  the 
Pavilion  window.' 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Planly,  "  I  don't  pretend  to  give 
you  an  exact  translation  of  what  they  said,  but  that  was  about 
the  substance.  The  other  one  still  urged  that  it  would  be 


NEVER  AGAIN.  429 

best  to  kill  the  little  one  first ;  that  in  reality  he  was  the  cause 
of  his  father  going  all  wrong ;  that  if  he  had  not  been  born 
the  father  would  have  made  a  very  good  ruler ;  that  having 
no  dynasty  to  look  after  he  would  really  have  tried  to  educate 
the  people  of  France  for  the  inevitable  republic,  but  that  the 
birth  of  that  brat  had  spoiled  all.  Mr.  Fuiyard  would  not  ad 
mit  this — the  father  was  a  villain  from  the  first.  He  attained 
power  by  lying,  and  fraud,  and  wholesale  murder  ;  that  as  to 
both  blood  and  brains  he  was  an  impostor ;  that  everything 
about  him  was  a  vile  sham  ;  that  the  rule  of  such  a  perjured 
humbug  was  emasculating  France,  and,  as  far  as  French  in 
fluence  went,  demoralizing  the  world ;  that  the  only  way  to 
break  up  his  entourage  of  pretentious  and  reckless  rascality 
and  mendacity  was  to  strike  at  him.  He  was  the  tool  by 
which  political  villainy  and  religious  bigotry  worked  the  vast 
fund  of  popular  ignorance  to  their  own  selfish  ends.  Kill 
him  and  you  would  break  up  the  clique  that  made  him  and 
upheld  him,  and  scatter  in  confusion  the  conglomeration  of 
infamous  influences  that  fed  his  fictitious  power. 

"  Imagine  this,"  continued  Mr.  Planly,  "  or  something  very 
much  like  it,  uttered  in  a  subdued  voice,  but  with  passionate 
volubility,  and  you  will  get  an  idea  of  what  struck  my  ear  and 
enlightened  my  mind  very  much.  I  slipped  out  without  being 
seen,  and  at  once  made  arrangements  to  get  away  from  Wooster 
street  the  next  morning,  and  now  you  have  the  real  reason  for 
my  stealthy  demenagement,  and  the  reason  why  your  appearance 
here  gave  me  such  a  start.  Every  time  that  door  opens,  I 
have  been  afraid  that  Mr.  Fuiyard  would  enter,  and  that  I 
should  have  a  fine  scene  with  the  fiery  jacobin  when  I  had  to 
tell  him  plumply  that  I  would  have  nothing  more  to  do  with 
him." 

"  And  do  you  think  that  he  is  the  abductor  of  Madame 
Steignitz  ? "  asked  Luther. 

"  I  do.  I  don't  know  that  he  is  or  has  been  the  principal 
actor,  but  as  the  chief  concocter  of  the  scheme,  I  am  pretty 
sure  that  he  is  the  man.  And  I'll  tell  you  why.  He  is  a 
bold,  reckless,  scheming  fellow.  He  knew  that  Madame 


43° 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


Steignitz  was  enormously  rich,  in  fact  he  knew  it  much  better 
than  I.  He  knew  the  how  and  the  why  of  her  riches.  He 
knew  that  the  old  woman  never  kept  any  valuables  about  her 
or  in  her  room.  He  was  in  want  of  money,  in  fact  often  in 
desperate  straits ;  and  often  talked  of  the  old  woman's  wealth  ; 
and,  one  day,  I  recollect  he  said  he  would  like  to  put  a  wooden 
jillabeah  on  her.  He  said  he'd  bet  she'd  yield  a  million.  I 
asked  him  what  he  meant  by  a  wooden  jillabeah.  He  said 
that  it  was  a  garment  consisting  of  two  planks  with  screws 
between  them,  used  by  the  Emperor  of  Morocco  for  collecting 
his  dues.  Whenever  a  man  gets  to  be  too  wealthy,  the  Em 
peror  sends  for  him  to  come  to  court,  puts  him  between  these 
two  planks,  and  turns  the  screws  until  he  consents  to  disgorge 
into  the  imperial  treasury." 

"  He  must  be  the  man,"  muttered  Luther.  "  There  can 
be  no  doubt  of  it" 

"  Another  item,"  continued  Mr.  Planly,  after  a  pause,  "  is, 
that  I  have  seen  him  in  company  with  a  man  owning  just  such 
a  hideous  face  as  you  saw  looking  into  the  room." 

"  And  that  man  is  the  same  man  that  lived  in  the  attic  of 
one  of  the  houses  in  the  block,  and  who  vacated  his  room  the 
morning  after  the  old  woman  disappeared.  I  see  it  all  now," 
continued  Luther.  "  It  is  just  as  clear  as  day.  But  what  is 
to  be  done  ?  what  is  the  next  step?  how  shall  I  find  the  old 
woman,  or  ferret  out  and  punish  her  murderers  ? " 

"  I'll  tell  you  one  thing  you  had  better  try  and  find,  and 
that  is — her  will.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  she  had  left  you 
something  handsome  ! " 

"I  will  prove  her  to  be  dead  first,  before  I  think  about 
that,"  replied  Luther. 

"You  think  she  has  left  a  will,  then  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Luther.  "  She  told  me  one  day 
that  she  was  a  very  poor  woman,  and  that  she  had  not  a  rela 
tion  in  the  world,  but  that  she  was  going  to  make  her  will  so 
as  to  leave  me  an  old  brown  candlestick  with  a  most  horrible 
dog's-head  for  a  handle,  and  her  colored  plaster  bust  of  Na 
poleon,  something,  she  said,  by  which  I  could  remember  her 


NEVER  AGAIN.  431 

Mr.  Plahly  could  give  Luther  no  advice  as  to  his  future 
proceedings.  He  merely  made  one  remark,  and  that  was  that 
he  felt  pretty  sure  that  Mr.  Fuiyard  or  his  companion  would 
not  be  found  by  merely  visiting  the  drinking-shop  in  Prince 
street.  He  doubted  whether  either  would  venture  in  there  at 
present.  The  place  was  too  public,  and  they  would  not  show 
themselves  where  they  knew  that  he — Mr.  Planly — had  been 
sometimes  in  the  habit  of  going. 

Luckily  Luther  had  in  Mr.  Whoppers  a  more  experienced 
adviser.  To  him  he  communicated  the  secrets  of  his  day's 
work,  concealing  nothing  but  the  character  and  objects  of  the 
wonderful  gun. 

The  result  of  his  earnest  consultation  with  the  astute 
Editor  of  the  Universe  may  be  summed  up  in  a  few  words 
Luther  was  to  look  out  for  his  man,  or  men,  himself.  He  must 
expect  to  find  them  disguised,  and  most  probably  frequenting 
some  of  the  lowest  haunts  for  foreigners  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Canal  street  or  Broome  street ;  that  he  would  have  to 
assume  some  kind  of  disguise  himself,  and  that,  once  on  the 
track,  he  could  then  get  some  assistance  from  the  detective 
force,  and  shadow  them  to  their  most  secret  lair. 

"  Good-night,  my  dear  fellow,"  was  Mr.  Whoppers'  parting 
salutation.  "  It's  a  nasty  job,  but  if  ever  there  was  a  youngster 
without  much  experience  fitted  for  it,  I  suppose  you  are  the 
one.  If  you  had  less  coolness  and  pluck,  I  should  say  give  it 
up  ;  but  you  are  determined,  and  I  must  say  for  your  comfort 
I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  you  are  not  right." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A  Moroccan  Institution — New  York  Squeezing  Processes — A  Terrible 
Spectre — Mrs.  Ledgeral's  Medical  Advice — Joseph's  Reflections- 
Fond  Memories — A  Mother's  Anxieties — A  new  Cure  for  Neuralgia. 

WOULD  it,  or  would  it  not,  be  possible  to  introduce 
that  happiest  institution  of  Morocco,  the  wooden 
jillabeah,  into  this  country?  The  question  must  have  occui- 
red  to  the  attentive  reader  of  the  last  chapter.  The  pure 
Anglo-Saxon  is  ever  loath  to  accept  anything  as  an  improve 
ment  from  inferior  branches  of  the  Aryan  race  ;  and  for  any 
thing  coming  from  barbarians  of  Semitic  blood  no  words  can 
sufficiently  express  contempt.  Now,  the  American  of  mixed 
blood — above  all  a  New  Yorker  of  the  dominant  Celtic  race, 
ought  to  be  more  liberal — but  is  he  ?  Can  you  knock  it  into 
his  head  that  the  "  blatherin  furrigners"  can  teach  us  anything 
at  all  ?  He  goes  for  developing  old  institutions  rather  than 
adopting  new  ones.  For  instance,  what  more  striking  than 
the  extension  of  the  jury  system  to  meet  the  wants  and  re 
quirements  of  our  ruling  classes  ?  A  system  as  old  as  the 
days  of  Alfred  is,  with  the  happiest  ingenuity,  made  to  sub 
serve  a  purpose  newer  than  Tammany — as  new  as  the  new 
Court  House.  Pass  a  law  to  "  rope  in"  for  duty  every  one  from 
twenty-one  to  seventy,  and  you  have  an  almost  inexhaustible 
fund  of  fifty-dollar  fees  for  quietly  scratching  names  off  the 
jury  lists  ;  so  that  from  being  a  system  for  determining  legal 
justice,  it  has  become  mainly  a  beautiful  instrument  for  the 
collection  of  the  taxes  that  rich  people  owe  their  rulers  for 
taking  care  of  their  property.  So  with  all  our  other  institu 
tions  ;  they  are  either  fully  developed,  or  in  the  process  of  de 
velopment,  to  suit  the  times. 


NEVER   AGAIN.  433 

Still,  it  may  be  contended  that  the  wooden  jillabeah  might 
be  advantageously  introduced.  Its  superiority  in  many  par 
ticulars  is  manifest.  It  would  be  a  great  saving  in  time. 
Now,  when  the  ruling  classes  wish  to  make  a  rich  man  contrib 
ute  his  proper  quota  to  the  support  of  his  superiors,  the  pro 
cesses  are  roundabout  and  wasteful.  There  is  the  slow  sys 
tem  of  legal  taxation.  Beautiful,  it  is  true,  and  the  easy  see 
saw  movement  pleases  the  people.  You  run  up  the  rate  and 
diminish  the  valuation,  or  you  diminish  the  rate  and  run  up 
the  valuation.  Of  course  no  sensible  man  cares  much 
whether  he  pays  five  per  cent,  on  a  million,  or  two-and-a-half 
per  cent,  on  two  millions.  The  movement  is  simple,  but  the 
machinery  is  complicated,  and  the  mill  grinds  neither  fast  nor 
fine. 

A  better  way  is  to  repair  the  street  before  Mr.  Crcesus' 
door  and  charge  him  double  the  contractor's  price.  If  the 
foolish  fellow  trusts  to  the  law,  which  says  that  he  can  be 
assessed  only  for  first  paving,  not  repairing,  a  street,  why  all 
you  have  to  do  is  to  alter  the  grade  of  the  street  half  an  inch. 
Give  the  poor  devil  a  new  street,  and  add  twenty-five  per 
cent,  to  his  bills  for  grumbling. 

What  with  the  Croton  Aqueduct  Department  and  the  Board 
of  Health,  and  the  various  other  boards  and  departments  of 
the  city  administration,  there  are  a  hundred  ways  of  touching 
up  a  recalcitrant  citizen,  or,  in  other  words,  making  a  balky 
Crcesus  step  up  to  his  collar.  All  these  work  well,  especially 
if  you  can  get  the  Citizen's  Association,  or  a  committee  of  our 
most  respectable  citizens,  to  first  put  a  little  mud  in  his  nose. 

The  indignant  reader  may  justly  demand  an  apology  for 
this  metaphor,  but  it  will  suit  the  meridian  of  certain  magnifi 
cent  up-town  stables  built  with  corporation  money,  and  will 
be  easily  understood  by  parties  who  cannot  only  handle  the 
reins  of  government,  but  can  tool  their  buggies  alongside  of  a 
Vanderbilt  or  a  Bonner. 

As  we  have  said,  all  these  plans  are  beautiful ;  but,  per 
haps,  the  neatest  is  opening  a  new  street — on  paper ;  levy 
ing  assessments  on  property  anywhere  within  five  miles,  and 
28 


434  NEVER    AGAIN. 

then — why  then,  leaving  the  new  street  for  ten  years  on  paper. 
If  ever  the  time  comes  for  doing  anything  at  it,  property  all 
around  can  be  reassessed  to  pay  for  working  the  street,  and 
then,  when  it  is  finished,  there  may  be  a  third  assessment  for 
tearing  it  all  up  again  and  altering  the  grade. 

Some  foolish  people  get  into  a  passion  when  talking  about 
these  things,  and  may  even  go  so  far  as  to  deny  the  ordinary 
amount  of  flesh  and  blood  to  a  writer  who  refuses  to  treat 
them  to  a  little  vigorous  denunciation.  How  absurd  !  How 
perfectly  ridiculous !  If  the  rich  men,  the  respectable  men, 
the  pious  men  of  Gotham  are  content  to  neglect  their  public 
duties,  to  fritter  their  time  and  influence  in  vain  schemes  of 
impossible  moral  or  religious  reform,  to  waste  their  time  in 
passionate  abuse  of  an  energy  they  dare  not,  or  cannot,  emu 
late  ;  or  they  content  themselves  with  a  spasmodic  effort 
which,  because  it  heads  off  for  a  moment  a  Tweed  or  a 
Sweeny,  is  supposed  to  be  the  regeneration  of  the  whole  com 
munity — if  they  are  willing  to  walk,  each  his  own  way,  in  the 
vain  shadows  of  national  politics,  why  should  a  poor  devil  of 
an  author  disquiet  himself  in  vain  ?  He  can  only  pass  on  his 
way  quietly,  consoling  himself  at  the  death  of  all  municipal 
honor,  and  honesty,  and  decency  with  the  melancholy  force 
of  the  words  of  the  burial  service  :  "  Man  heapeth  up  riches, 
and  can  not  tell  who  shall  gather  them.  And  now,  O  Lord, 
what  is  my  hope  ?  Truly,  my  hope  is  only  in  thee." 

But  we  are  wasting  time  and  space,  and  wandering  from 
our  text,  which  is  the  wooden  jillabeah.  Beautiful  as  are  the 
squeezing  processes  of  Gotham,  the  Moroccan  process  is  more 
beautiful  still,  and  its  simplicity  is  wonderful.  Suppose  that 
the  late  worthy  Comptroller  of  New  York,  when  he  had  se 
cured  his  well-known  voluntary  auditing  committee  of  wealthy 
and  eminently  respectable  gobmouches,  and  just  when  they 
were  listening  with  open  mouths  to  his  explanation  of  the 
curious  fact  in  the  natural  history  of  the  little  joker — that 
sometimes  you  see  it  and  sometimes  you  don't  see  it — just 
suppose  for  an  instant  that  he  had  had  the  wooden  jillabeah 
handy,  he  might  have  slipped  it  on — a  dozen  turns  of  the 


NEVER   AGAIN.  435 

screw  !  and  crack — a  few  bones  only — and  twenty  millions 
would  have  fallen  into  his  lap,  Vith  which  he  could  have  an 
swered  the  demands  of  our  ruling  class  for  six  months  at  least, 
after  sending  home  the  compressed  committee-men  in  the 
shape  and  condition  of  perfect  flats,  with  no  stomachs  to  put 
their  dinner  in,  even  if  they  had  money  enough  left  to  buy  it. 

A  happy  way  this  of  determining  the  great  social  question 
what  is  going  to  be  done  with  our  enormous  overgrown  for 
tunes.  Is  accumulation  and  concentration  to  be  allowed  to  go 
on  indefinitely?  Shall  we  be  permitted  to  heap  up  money,  or, 
still  worse,  to  have  it  heaped  up  for  us,  without  the  least  exer 
tion  on  our  part  of  either  labor,  capital,  or  brains,  into  vast 
tottering  piles  that  threaten  at  any  moment  to  fall,  perhaps 
under  the  reckless  agony  of  a  death-bed  repentance,  and 
overwhelm  the  community  in  one  universal  wave  of  demoraliz 
ing  philanthropy?  Of  course  it's  revolting — it  is  worse — it  is 
communistic  and  revolutionary  even  to  state  the  question, 
but —  Well,  the  spectre  is  gigantic  when  fully  developed,  and 
we  won't  uncork  the  bottle  until  we  can  give  him  more  room 
to  expand  himself  in. 

Enough  to  say  here,  that  if  all  fortunes  would  dissipate 
themselves,  like  Mr.  Ledgeral's,  for  instance,  there  would  be 
no  question  of  the  kind.  He,  poor  man,  had  pretty  nearly 
approached  the  solution  of  the  question  for  himself.  He  was 
still  shivering  in  the  agonies  of  doubt  as  to  whether  in  a  few 
days  there  would  be  anything  of  his  fortune  left — whether,  in 
fact,  there  would  be  even  a  few  rags  of  reputation  remaining, 
in  which  he  might  wrap  himself,  and  wait  while  recuperating 
under  the  invigorating  influence  of  the  business  in  Burling 
Slip. 

Luckily,  so  far,  no  one  had  any  suspicions  of  the  real  state 
of  his  affairs.  Mr.  Gainsby  knew  that  he  was  pressed  for 
money,  and  had  to  draw  to  the  utmost  limit  upon  the  spare 
funds  of  the  concern  ;  but  Mr.  Ledgeral  had  responded  so 
readily  to  the  call  of  the  firm  at  the  time  of  the  great  panic, 
that  he  could  not  think  of  his  partner  as  being  seriously  em 
barrassed  by  his  outside  speculations.  He  looked  upon  all 


436  NEVER  AGAIN. 

speculations, — except,  of  course,  legitimate  speculations  in  a 
few  standard  articles,  coffee  and  sugar  for  instance,  and  occa 
sionally  speculative  advances  to  secure  crops  or  cargoes, — as 
not  only  wrong,  but  worse — as  absolutely  foolish,  and  it  never 
entered  his  head  that  his  partner,  a  man  of  sense  and  high 
social  position,  a  little  flighty,  it  is  true,  and  over-fond  of 
parade  and  show,  and  who  was  the  head  of  a  business  that 
yielded  to  his  share,  in  the  good  years,  seventy  or  eighty 
thousand  a  year,  could  have  plunged  so  recklessly  into  the  ocean 
of  speculation,  and  was  now  all  afloat  with  his  head  hardly 
above  water,  and  supported  only  by  financial  bubbles  and 
bladders,  that  were  daily  bursting  and  collapsing  around  him. 
He  looked  upon  his  partner's  supposed  doings,  not  with  the 
utter  abhorrence  due  to  the  regular  gamester,  but  rather  with 
the  feelings  with  which  the  feminine  entourage  of  Jones  or 
Robinson  watch  paterfamilias  as  he  slyly  slips  a  napoleon  or 
two  on  the  green  cloth  at  Baden.  Naughty  man  !  but  then 
there  is  not  the  least  fear  that  pa  will  really  gamble — only  just 
a  little,  for  the  fun  of  the  thing ;  not  the  least  apprehension 
that  when  the  Saratoga  season  is  in  full  blast  he  will  do  more 
than  look  at  the  outside  of  our  American  Gully's  handsome 
club-house. 

Mr.  Gainsby,  in  the  quiet  of  his  secluded  counting-room, 
little  appreciated  the  full  force  of  that  blast  of  passionate 
longing  for  sudden  fortune,  of  intense  burning  desire  for  vast- 
wealth,  mingled  with  an  utter  contempt  for  small  gains,  that  is 
now  sweeping  over  the  land,  whirling  into  fritters  honesty, 
piety,  decency,  and  self-respect.  A  tornado  of  greed  !  And 
yet,  that  is  hardly  the  term  for  it — one  cannot  think  of  the 
whirling  zephyr  that  merely  raises  the  dust  on  the  road  as  one 
and  the  same  thing  with  the  cyclone  that,  as  Mr.  Whoppers 
would  say,  levels  forests  and  sinks  navies  at  a  single  blow. 

The  Americans,  as  we  have  said  before,  never  did  care  as 
much  for  the  almighty  dollar  as  their  penny-loving  cousins  of 
England,  their  kreutzer-saving  kindred  of  Germany,  or  their 
centime-cherishing  friends  of  France.  But  now,  the  miserable 
coin,  except  in  conglomerated  masses  of  millions,  can  hardly 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


437 


be  considered  money  of  account ;  and  no  doubt  the  time  will 
soon  arrive  when  children  just  out  of  the  arms  will  indignantly 
chuck  dollars  at  the  heads  of  niggardly  uncles  and  aunts,  and 
refuse  anything  under  double  eagles  or  fifty-dollar  bank-notes. 

Uncle  Shippen  knew  that  Mr.  Ledgeral  had  been  fooling 
around  in  "  the  street,"  because  he  had  been  called  upon  sev 
eral  times  to  help  lift  the  load  when  Mr.  Ledgeral's  usually  un 
failing  resource,  the  general  money-market,  tightened  up  for  the 
time.  "  I  hope  he  will  lose  every  cent  of  it,"  was  his  muttered 
speech  as  he  drew  his  last  check.  "  Courtlandt  always  was  a 
gambler  at  best,  and  he'll  go  on,  unless  he  gets  his  fingers 
burnt  now,  until  he  gets  into  the  fiery  furnace  of  financial 
affliction,  heels  over  head."  But  Uncle  Shippen  had  no  idea 
that  his  debtor  was  already  fairly  within  reach  of  the  flames. 

And  so  stood  matters  at  home.  Mr.  Ledgeral  grew  thinner, 
and  paler,  and  feebler  in  gait,  but  his  wife  had  no  suspicion 
that  anxiety  of  mind  had  anything  to  do  with  his  failing  health. 
It  was  nothing  but  indigestion.  He  must  be  more  careful  in 
his  eating — the  poor-  man  hardly  tasted  food;  he  must  stop 
drinking  Champagne,  it  was  bad  for  the  stomach,  and  try 
Catawba.  Now  if  there  was  anything  Mr.  Ledgeral  detested 
it  was  American  wine  of  any  kind,  unless  it  were  of  some  of 
the  later  California  brands,  which  are  really  getting  to  be  quite 
drinkable.  He  must  try  Dr.  Swindleson's  "  Safronitic  Vital 
Reformers."  Mrs.  Johnston's  baby  was  so  sick,  and  they  just 
gave  her  half  a  lozenge,  and  it  cured  her  right  off.  Well,  if 
he  did  not  want  any  baby-stuff,  there  was  Dr.  Billkens'  "  Corpse 
Reviving  Bitters."  It  had  cured  hundreds  and  thousands. 
The  wrapper  on  the  bottle  had  the  certificates  of  more  than 
a  dozen  clergymen  ;  and,  besides,  there  was  the  case  of  Julia 
Jenkins — she  was  so  thin  and  pale,  and  couldn't  stay  through 
the  whole  of  the  German.  Well,  she  has  been  taking  quanti 
ties  of  those  Bitters  for  a  year  past,  and  do  you  know  she  is 
getting  quite  plump  ;  and  such  a  color  !  Quackery  ?  Well, 
perhaps  you're  right.  No  one  can  approve  as  a  general  thing, 
and  for  universal  use,  of  quack  medicines.  But,  my  dear,  you 
will  see  Dr.  Petkaff,  won't  you  ?  He  is  coming  to  see  Helen. 


438  :\E  VER  A  GAIN. 

She  is  looking  so  peaked,  although  she  declares  nothing  is  the 
matter  with  her.  Now  when  he  comes  you  will  let  him  see 
you,  won't  you  ?  He  is  so  pleasant,  and  so  agreeable,  and  so 
scientific ;  and  he  knows  all  that  is  going  on  in  society,  and 
can  be  so  entertaining ;  and  he  don't  give  much  medicine 
unless  you  really  need  it.  You  will  let  him  see  you,  my  dear, 
just  to  let  him  find  out  what  is  the  matter  with  you?  You 
look  wretched — you  do,  upon  my  word  ;  you  need  not  be 
afraid  of  Petkaff  ordering  you  anything  disagreeable.  He 
was  explaining  the  other  day  how  to  take  pepsin — horrible- 
tasting  stuff.  You  just  take  pains  azyme,  a  kind  of  large 
wafer,  and  you  dip  one  in  water  and  lay  it  in  the  palm  of  your 
hand,  and  then  you  throw  the  pepsin  powder  on  it  and  double 
it  over  and  over,  and  then  swallow  the  little  package  down 
just  like  a  small  oyster.  Oh,  it's  perfectly  delightful ! " 

Mr.  Leclgeral  was  obstinate.  He  would  take  no  quack 
medicines,  and  he  would  consult  no  doctor.  He  had  no  idea 
of  having  the  shrewd  Petkaff  prying  into  his  maladies,  even 
if  the  doctor  kept,  as  lie  most  probably  would,  his  diagnosis 
to  himself. 

The  only  one  in  the  house  who  had  any  idea  of  the  true 
state  of  the  case  was  old  Joseph.  He  had  just  answered  Mr. 
Ledgeral's  summons,  and  had  deposited  on  his  study-table  a 
bottle  of  Bourbon  and  a  decanter  of  iced-water. 

"  I  don't  dislike  de  Champagne,"  he  muttered,  as  he  re 
turned  to  his  pantry.  "  De  Champagne  merely  indumcates 
dat  de  tight  is  in  de  money-market.  But  when  it  comes  to 
'most  a  bottle  of  Bourbon  in  de  day,  'pears  to  me  I  don't 
know  what  to  tink,"  and  Joseph  pulled  out  his  bandanna  and 
mopped  his  bald  head  for  some  time  in  silence. 

He  got  up  and  reached  down  from  a  shelf  a  Champagne- 
bottle  which  had  been  carefully  recorked,  and  placed  in  an 
inverted  position  behind  a  pile  of  plates.  There  was  the  third 
of  its  contents  left  in  the  bottle,  and  the  vigor  with  which  the 
cork  was  blown  out  when  loosened  a  little,  indicated  that  the 
wine  was  still  as  lively  as  ever. 

"  Dat  Roederer  is  the  genoowine,  dat's  de  fac'.     It  holds 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


439 


on  to  de  gas  furst  rate,  but  dat  American  stuff  fizzle  furst  like 
de  debble,  and  den  it's  as  flat  as  a  pancake.  You  can't  no 
more  get  a  fizzle  out  ob  him  de  second  day  den  you  can  git  a 
sigh  out  ob  a  dead  nigger.  One  is  the  genoowine,  and  de 
oder  'taint  no  wine  at  all." 

Joseph  deliberately  poured  the  wine  into  a  tumbler,  and 
after  recorking  and  replacing  the  bottle,  proceeded  to  add  a 
few  lumps  of  ice  to  his  glass.  He  resumed  his  seat,  took  a 
sip  of  Champagne,  and  commenced  brushing  up,  the  outside 
at  least,  of  his  reflective  faculties  with  his  old  spotted  ban 
danna.  Suddenly  there  was  a  slight  knock,  and  the  door  of 
the  pantry  opened. 

"  Who's  dat  ?  Who's  dar  ?  "  cried  Joseph,  starting  and 
pushing  his  glass  of  Champagne  behind  a  neighboring  tureen. 

A  young  colored  man,  Joseph's  assistant  in  his  table  du 
ties,  put  his  bland  and  smiling  face  into  the  pantry,  but  was 
met  by  such  an  objurgatory  salute  that  he  was  glad  to  beat  a 
hasty  retreat. 

"  What  you  want,  eh  ?  Nothing  ?  Well,  take  it  and  clare 
out  den.  Go  down  stairs  and  stay  dar  till  de  bell  ring,  or  till 
I  call  you.  I'm  reflectum,  I  is  ;  and  when  I'm  reflectum  I 
don't  want  any  niggers  round;  and  I  won't  hab  'em  ;  I  tell 
you  I  won't  hab  'em." 

"  Oh  my  !  oh  my  ! "  he  soliloquized,  as  the  intruder  hastily 
withdrew,  "  it  is  mighty  hard  work  to  git  'long  wid  dese 
'mancipated  darkies ;  dey  is  so  sassy  and  perient,"  and 
Joseph  sat  down  again  to  his  Champagne  and  his  reflections, 
the  result  of  which  latter  was  that  Mr.  Ledgeral  must  have 
something  very  heavy  on  his  mind,  and  that  that  something 
must  be  a  money  trouble,  and  that  it  was  a  duty  he  owed  to 
his  master,  and  the  family  of  which  he  was  such  an  important 
component  part,  and,  above  all,  to  Miss  Helen,  "  de  chile  dat 
he'd  a  gwone  and  brung  up  hisself,"  to  get  his  savings-bank 
balance  somehow  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Ledgeral.  But  how 
to  do  it. 

"  Dat's  jiss  'zactly  what  dis  ere  chile  don't  know,"  solilo 
quized  Joseph.  "  'Cause  you  see,  honey,  when  I  looks  at 


440  NEVER  AGAIN. 

him,  and  jiss  a  gwine  to  speak,  he  looks  back  at  me  and  sits 
me  all  in  a  tremble.  He  looks  at  me  black  as  a  roasted  nig 
ger,  and  his  eyes,  oh  my  !  his  eyes  shine  way  down  in  the 
back  ob  his  head  like  two  holes  in  a  charcoal  heap,  and  I 
'spect  to  hear  him  yell  out,  'What  de  debble  you  fooling 
round  here  for,  you  old  snow  head  ?  Clare  out ! '  and  so  I 
clare  out ;  and  I  don't  hab  de  courage  to  gib  him  dis  bank 
book,  and  to  speak  right  out  and  say,  '  Looker  heah,  Misser 
Courtlandt  Ledgeral,  I  don't  like  dis  ere  kind  ob  going  on. 
It's  a  killin'  you,  and  it's  a  killin'  Miss  Helen,  and  it's  a  kill- 
in'  me.  Der's  de  money,  and  let  us  go  right  back  to  one  bot 
tle  of  Champagne  on  Sunday,  'ceptin'  dar  is  company.'  " 

The  old  man  took  two  or  three  sips  in  silence,  and  then 
turned  over  the  leaves  of  his  bank-book,  dwelling  with  partic 
ular  attention  upon  several  large  items  of  credit,  until  he 
came  to  the  end. 

"  'Pears  to  me  dat  nobody  could  objec  to  dat  balance.  It 
reads  fust  rate  ;  tree  thousand  seben  hundred  and  sebenty- 
seben  dollar  and  sebenty-seben  cents.  I  tell  you  what,  honey, 
ye  can't  do  it  verberally,  but  ye  can  do  it  writingly.  I'll  jess 
enwellop  dis  ar  book  and  leab  it  on  his  table  annermousely. 
Golly  !  I  got  it,"  continued  the  old  man,  slapping  his  thigh 
as  a  brilliant  idea  struck  him  ;  "  I  got  it.  I'll  jess  do  it  up, 
and  I'll  get  Miss  Helen  to  write  her  fader's  name  upon  it,  and 
I  won't  let  her  know  what  is  in  it,  and  she  won't  let  him  know 
whar  it  come  from." 

Joseph  chuckled  for  some  time  over  this  ingenious  plan  of 
getting  his  bank  balance  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Ledgeral  with 
out  him,  or  anybody  else,  knowing  anything  about  it.  The  idea 
seemed  to  be  so  clever  that  he  decided  to  sop  it  in  a  little 
more  Champagne. 

In  the  meantime  Mr.  Ledgeral  was  walking  up  and  down 
his  study,  taking  occasionally  a  heavy  sip  of  Bourbon,  and  ut 
terly  unconscious  of  the  friendly  plans  brewing  in  the  butler's 
pantry.  Affairs  had  gone  neither  better  nor  worse  with  him 
since  we  last  saw  him.  Perhaps,  considering  all  things,  he  was 
a  little  easier  in  his  mind.  He  had  been  stretched  so  long 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


441 


upon  the  rack  of  speculation  that  his  mental  muscles  and  ten 
dons  were  becoming  somewhat  used  to  the  strain.  They  say 
that  it  was  often  so  in  the  olden  torture  times  ;  and  that  when 
the  poor  wretch  on  the  rack  ceased  to  groan,  and  shriek,  and 
began  to  yawn  and  give  signs  of  sleepiness,  they  were  forced 
to  take  the  strain  off  lest  his  capacity  for  suffering  should  be 
wholly  used  up.  Those  were  cases  of  exhausted  sensibility. 
Perhaps  the  relief  that  comes  to  the  tortured  speculator  may 
rather  be  considered  cases  of  blunted  or  destroyed  sensibility. 
Like  the  Indian  Fakir,  the  first  time  the  poor  speculator  lies 
down  on  his  bed  of  spikes  he  writhes  in  torture,  but  after  a 
few  weeks  or  months  in  Wall  Street  the  cuticle  of  conscience 
thickens  up,  and  mental  callosities  develop  themselves,  and 
his  aciculated  couch  becomes  downy. 

Mr.  Ledgeral  was  very  far  from  the  downy  stage.  He  was 
still  suffering,  but  with  the  help  of  Champagne  and  whiskey, 
he  was  getting  a  little  used  to  it.  In  the  great  bulk  of  his 
speculations — in  stocks,  and  cotton,  and  in  petroleum,  there 
was  just  that  uncertainty  as  to  the  final  result  which  leaves  the 
freest  rein  to  the  imagination, — the  widest  field  for  the  disport 
of  hopes  and  fears.  If  he  could  go  on  borrowing  long  enough 
he  might  squeeze  through  without  the  loss  of  much  money,  and, 
still  better,  without  the  loss  of  reputation.  But  that  business 
with  the  Count !— there  was  the  trouble, — that  was  the  cloud 
from  which  the  bolt  that  would  crush  him  lifeless  to  the  earth 
might  at  any  instant  come. 

Sometimes  he  almost  wished  that  it  would  come,  and  that 
he  could  know  the  worst.  No  doubt  Damocles,  if  he  had  sat 
at  the  table  long  enough,  would,  in  time,  have  eyed  the  sus 
pended  sword  with  curiosity  rather  than  fear,  and  at  length 
have  wished  that  the  devilish  thing  would  fall. 

But  the  Count  gave  no  sign  of  any  hurry  for  business.  He 
was  too  much  taken  up  with  the  study  of  the  faults,  follies  and 
shortcomings  of  American  society  in  general,  and  with  the 
peculiar  graces  and  charms  of  Helen  Ledgeral  in  particular. 
And  Mr.  Ledgeral  had  plenty  of  time  to  nurse  his  plan  of  bat 
tle,  pushing  out  his  daughter  upon  the  Hanks  of  his  enemy, 


442 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


capturing  him  and  converting  him   from  a  cold,  hard  stranger 
into  a  considerate  and  submissive  son-in-law. 

In  this  plan  Mr.  Ledgeral  enjoyed  the  cordial  co-operation 
of  his  wife.  She  knew  nothing  of  his  real  reasons,  but  she 
fully  agreed  with  him  that  it  would  be  a  very  good  thing. 
Indeed  what  fashionable  and  affectionate  American  mother 
could  be  insensible  to  the  advantages  of  such  an  aristocratic 
match,  and  the  consequent  opening  up  in  its  innermost  veins 
and  lodes  of  the  mine  of  happiness  enclosed  in  the  court  circle 
at  Berlin.  Her  own  position  at  home  was  of  course  good 
enough.  She  stood  on  the  very  pinnacle,  but  she  hadn't  any 
glory  around  her  head ;  and  as  mother-in-law  to  a  real  Count 
she  would  be  entitled  to  that  heavenly  distinction. 

Mr.  Ledgeral  stopped  short  in  his  walk,  seated  himself  at 
his  desk,  and  unlocked  a  secret  drawer.  He  took  out  from 
its  recesses  the  long  golden  tress  which  we  have  seen  him 
once  before  examining.  His  eyes  shone  with  a  softened  lus 
tre,  and  the  lines  of  his  face  lost  some  of  their  rigidity,  as  he 
slowly  pulled  it  through  his  fingers,  and — naughty  man  ! — even 
once  raised  it  to  his  lips. 

But  was  it  naughty  in  him  to  do  so  ?  The  act  implied  no 
infidelity,  even  in  thought,  to  his  most  respectable  and  respec 
ted  partner  in  life.  It  was  simply  the  memento  of  an  extinct 
passion — it  was  simply  the  reminder  of  a  glorious  time  when 
the  glamour  of  youth  had  made  him  master  of  the  world  and 
the  kingdoms  thereof;  and  then,  the  mystery  !  Well,  naughty 
or  not,  it  amused  his  mind,  it  diverted  attention  for  a  moment 
from  his  cares  and  troubles,  and  took  him  out,  as  it  were, 
from  his  own  present  miserable  and  contemptible  self.  Let 
a  jury  of  middle-aged  respectables,  who  have  never  secretly 
indulged  in  any  fond  fancies  of  the  past ;  who  have  never, 
even  perhaps  when  lying  side  by  side  in  the  legitimate  and 
dignified  seclusion  of  the  marriage  bed,  had  visions  pleasant, 
although  perhaps  shocking,  of  that  last  flirtation, — that  whis 
pered  declaration, — that  tender  caress, — that  impassioned 
kiss,  etc.,  etc., — let  such  a  jury,  if  one  can  be  found  without 
exhausting  the  panel  of  society,  condemn  him. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  443 

Mrs.  Ledgeral,  like  a  wise  woman  as  she  was,  always  gave 
a  slight  knock  before  opening  the  door  of  her  husband's  room, 
and  this  enabled  Mr.  Ledgeral  to  huddle  back  into  its  recep 
tacle,  the  wicked  little  tress  of  golden  hair. 

"  My  dear,"  she  began,  "  I  have  come  to  tell  you  that  I 
have  made  up  my  mind  to  take  a  run  up  to  West  Point, — that 
is,  if  you  are  well  enough." 

"I  am  well  enough  for  you  to  go,"  replied  Mr.  Ledgeral, 
rousing  himself  and  speaking  with  an  unusual  degree  of 
vivacity.  He  understood  his  wife  thoroughly,  and  he  knew 
that  she  would  not  dream  of  going  away  from  the  city  unless 
she  had  secured  the  Count  as  one  of  her  party.  The  Count 
in  the  country  for  a  month  or  two,  any  inquiry  into  business 
matters  must  be  deferred,  at  least  until  his  return.  The  con 
demned  in  his  cell  hails  with  joy  a  respite  on  some  frivolous 
points  of  law,  even  if  assured  he  will  ultimately  be  hanged. 
The  prospect  of  temporary  relief  from  the  spectre  of  the  ruin 
that  would  overwhelm  him,  at  the  daily,  hourly  expected 
intimation  from  the  Count  that  he  would  like  to  examine  his 
bonds  and  securities,  and  otherwise  look  into  his  own  busi 
ness  matters  himself,  sent  the  color  to  Mr.  Ledgeral's  cheeks, 
and  for  the  moment  quite  drove  out  the  worn  and  haggard 
expression  that  had  become  the  habit  of  his  face. 

"  Of  course,  he  will  go  along  with  us,"  replied  Mrs.  Ledg 
eral,  "but  unless  you  go,  I  don't  know  that  I  can  go  myself. 
I  can't  bear  to  go  away  and  leave  you  ailing,  although  I  know 
you  won't  let  me  do  anything  for  you  if  I  stay.  You're  sure 
you  can  spare  me  for  a  few  days  ?  Well  then,  you  will  send 
me  word  every  day  how  you  are ;  the  trains  run  so  often,  and 
the  distance  is  so  short.  I  wouldn't  think  of  going  to  New 
port  or  Saratoga,  but  only  to  West  Point,  and  Helen  is  really 
looking  so  very  poorly,  and  I  think  needs  change  of  air.  The 
Count  wants  to  visit  the  Military  Academy  with  us.  I'm  sure 
you  might  leave  the  city  for  a  few  days.  Com  now,  make 
up  your  mind.  I  know  it  will  do  you  good." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  shook  his  head. 

"It  is  impossible,"  he  said,  "but  I  think  it  a  very  good 


444  NEVER  AGAIN. 

plan  for  you  to  go,  only,  my  dear,  there  is  one  thing :  there 
may  be  a  great  many  girls  at  West  Point,  and  the  Count  you 
know —  But  you  understand  that  kind  of  thing." 

"  Oh !  you  can  trust  to  me,  my  dear.  The  Count  has  had 
Mother  Bevens  with  her  beautiful  daughters  after  him,  and 
Mrs.  D'Oberge  has  been  following  him  up,  but  he  don't  seem 
to  mind  them.  The  only  one  I  should  be  afraid  of,  is  Delie 
Chasseur.  She  is  so  clever  you  know,  so  lively  and  piquant, 
and  the  Count  seems  to  like  her,  but  I  have  just  ascertained 
that  she's  going  for  a  fortnight  with  Mrs.  Frank  down  to  Long 
Island,  so  she  will  be  out  of  the  way. 

"The  only  thing  that  troubles  me,"  continued  Mrs.  Ledg- 
eral,  after  a  short  pause,  "is  the  way  Helen  acts  and  looks. 
She  won't  exert  herself  a  bit.  She  don't  exactly  avoid  the 
Count,  and  she  don't  treat  him  coolly.  She  rather  seems  to 
like  him,  but  she  is  so  listless  and  has  so  little  to  say.  She 
never  touches  the  piano  now,  and  won't  sing  a  note.  And 
she  has  got  so  careless  about  her  dress,  I  don't  know  what  to 
make  of  the  girl.  I  told  her  I  should  order  Madame  Vo- 
lorem  to  make  her  six  dresses,  and  she  said,  '  Very  well 
mamma,'  ami  nothing  more.  She  didn't  seem  to  have  the 
least  curiosity  about  color,  or  material,  or  trimming,  and 
when  I  told  her  that  panniers  were  going  to  be  cut  at  least  a 
finger's  length  longer,  she  said,  'Very  well,  mamma.'  Says  I, 
'Helen,  there  is  your  blue  organdy  sprigged  with  orange- 
blossoms  ;  Madame  Volorem  purposes  to  trim  that  with 
petites  coquilles  d  rescargot.  I  think  it  will  be  perfectly  lovely. 
'  Just  as  you  please,  mamma,'  said  she, — lescargot  or  escarbot — 
it  is  all  the  same  to  me.'  Just  to  think  of  it!  If  there  is  any 
thing  in  the  world  she  hates,  I  know  it  is  a  black  beetle.  Now, 
my  dear,  what  do  you  think  can  be  the  matter  ? " 

Mrs.  Ledgeral  darted  a  penetrating  look  at  her  husband, 
who  sat  gloomy  and  glowering,  in  silence.  The  idea  of 
Luther  Lansdale  was  in  her  mind,  and  his  name  upon  her 
tongue,  when  Mr.  Ledgeral  turned  to  her  as  if  to  speak. 

"  My  business  is  just  now  so  pressing,"  he  said  at  length, 
"and  I  see  and  know  so  little  of  what  is  going  on,  that 


NEVER  AGAIN.  445 

I  am  no  judge  of  the  matter.  You  think  the  Count  is  in 
earnest?" 

"  Well,  he  puzzles  me  almost  as  much  as  Helen  does — he 
acts  so  queerly.  He  is  devoted  to  her,  but  whether  he's  in 
love  with  her  I  can't  make  out.  He  stares  at  her  with  his 
great  blue  eyes,  in  such  a  way  that  sometimes  I  think  it's 
more  curiosity  than  admiration.  He  has  such  a  puzzled 
expression  ;  and  he  don't  seem  in  the  least  jealous.  The  night 
of  the  tableaux  at  the  Delorains — I  wish  you  had  gone  with  me, 
they  were  really  beautiful — Helen  would  have  nothing  to  do 
with  them  until  it  was  proposed  to  have  a  short  scene,  or 
rather  a  kind  of  tableau  chantant,  from  Lucia ; — the  Count  to 
sing  Edward's  famous  song.  He  said  he  would  if  Helen 
would  pose  with  him  as  Lucy.  Well,  no  one  ever  saw  such  a 
Lucy  before ;  she  was  so  lovely,  but  so  wan  and  so  woe-be- 
gone,  and  really  looked  so  heart-stricken  that  everybody  was 
in  raptures.  But  I  could  see  that  it  was  Edward  and  not  the 
Count  she  was  thinking  of,  and  I  could  see  that  the  Count 
thought  so  too." 

"  And  you  think  that  there  is  a  real  Edward  in  the  case  ? " 
demanded  Mr.  Ledgeral. 

"  I  do,"  replied  the  lady  emphatically. 

"And  he  is—  ?" 

"That  Luther  Lansdale  !  " 

"  I  don't  think  you  need  trouble  yourself  about  him.  I 
thought  that  you  had  come  to  that  conclusion  some  time  since." 

"  No,  he  will  give  me  no  trouble,  except  so  far  as  he  troub 
les  the  mind  of  my  daughter.  Helen  knows  the  utter  impos 
sibility  of  marrying  any  one  without  a  fortune — a  very  large 
fortune." 

"  We  did  not  have  a  great  deal  to  begin  with,"  muttered 
Mr.  Ledgeral. 

"  True,  my  dear,  but  that  was  twenty-five  years  ago. 
Things  are  not  now  as  they  used  to  be.  If  a  man  was  a  rising 
man  ;  if  he  had  a  good  future  before  him  ;  that  was  enough  then. 
But  now,  a  girl  of  position  must  marry  a  risen  man — a  man 
with  a  good  present.  Then,  a  girl  might  marry  a  poor  man  as 


446  NEVER  AGAIN. 

a  matter  of  sentiment ;  now,  every  sentiment  of  society  is 
against  it ;  and  talking  about  a  present,  puts  me  in  mind  of 
the  presents.  I  have  always  said  to  my  girls, '  Girls,  when  you 
are  married,  you  will  have  to  exhibit  your  presents — will  have 
to  let  everybody,  that  is  everybody  in  society,  Tom,  Dick,  and 
Harry,  and  their  wives  and  daughters,  come  in  and  examine 
all  the  cards,  and  make  their  remarks.  Well,  you  will  want 
your  presents  to  be  as  fine  and  as  costly  as  anybody's,  but  if 
you  marry  a  poor  man,  nobody  will  want  to  give  you  any  pres 
ents.  That's  human  nature,  you  know." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  made  a  gesture  of  impatience. 

"  I  see,  my  dear,  you  are  tired,  and  really  there  is  no  use 
in  my  talking  to  you  in  this  way.  I  quite  agree  with  you  that 
this  business  of  presents  is  excessively  vulgar,  but  it  is  the 
fashion  ;  as  Boggs  says,  more  ton  than  taste  :  and,  really,  since 
all  the  thieves  and  rascals,  and  politicians,  and  office-holders, 
and  such  kind  of  people  are  getting  to  parade  their  wedding 
presents  in  the  newspapers,  I  suppose  we  shall  have  to  give 
it  up ;  and  I  say  so  to  the  girls.  I  say,  'Girls,  the  time  may 
come  when  you  will  have  to  get  married  without  a  single  fish- 
knife — Julia  Newcombe  had  fifteen — or  butter-boat,  or  sugar- 
bowl,'  but  the  necessity  of  a  large  fortune  to  people  of  our  po 
sition  will  never,  never  grow  less  imperious.  You  know  this, 
my  dear,  as  well  as  I  do,  and  Helen  knows  it,  and  I  am  much 
mistaken  if  the  young  man  don't  know  it  too.  I  had  a  talk 
with  Mr.  Whoppers  about  him  the  other  day,  and  he  quite 
relieved  my  mind.  He  quite  satisfied  me  that  the  young  man, 
although  nothing  but  a  clerk,  has  all  the  feelings  of  a  real  gen 
tleman,  and  would  no  more  think  of  marrying  a  fashionable 
girl,  unless  he  had  a  great  fortune  to  offer  her,  than  he  would 
do  any  mean  and  rascally  thing  in  businsss.  No,  we  shall 
have  no  real  trouble  with  him.  But  I  am  sorry  for  Helen. 
She  has  less  ambition,  and  more  heart,  than  her  sister,  and 
don't  take  so  kindly  to  the  yoke  that  high  social  position 
imposes.  The  fact  is,  aunt  Shippen  has  permitted  her  to  read 
so  much  poetry,  and  all  that  kind  of  stuff,  that  I  am  afraid  she 
is  getting  quite  unfitted  for  actual  life.  I  have  always  been 


NEVER   AGAIN.  447 

opposed  to  it.  And  then  her  writing  poetry  herself — I  feel  I 
have  been  guilty  in  not  setting  my  foot  down  at  once  on  that 
point,  but  you  and  oMr.  Whoppers  have  laughed  at  her  so  en 
couragingly,  and  I  did  not  know  but  that  it  might  have  a  good 
effect  and  quiet  her  imagination,  and  teach  her  what  foolish 
ness  it  all  is — teach  her  how  absurd  all  dreams  and  fancies 
of  ideal  life  are,  compared  with  the  real  facts  and  duties  of  her 
high  position.  But  she  is  such  a  queer  girl,  and  I  don't  know 
that  I  fully  understand  her  yet ;  but  I  don't  think  that  she 
would  do  anything  really  wrong — I  don't  think  that  she  would 
go  and  marry  a  poor  devil  of  an  author,  or  a  poet,  or  a  doctor, 
or  a  navy-officer,  just  because  she  fancied  him.  No  !  she 
wouldn't  do  such  a  foolish  thing  as  that.  Still  I  should  really 
like  her  to  love  the  man  she  marries  a  little,  at  first.  Of 
course  she  will  do  so  afterwards — all  girls  of  society  do." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  fairly  groaned. 

"  Well,  well,  I  don't  want  to  bother  you  with  these  things. 
It  will  all  come  right.  And  now,  as  I  was  saying,  I  am  going 
up  to  the  Point  for  a  week  or  two ;  don't  you  think  you  had 
better  go  along?  You  can't?  Well,  I  shall  tell  the  house 
keeper  and  Joseph  to  take  good  care  of  you ;  and,  my  dear, 
if  you  should  get  worse,  don't  fail  to  write  me  word  and  I  will 
come  down  to  you  at  once  ;  and,  my  dear,  I  hope  you  will 
take  some  care  of  yourself,  and  see  Dr.  Petkaff  every  day ; 
and  if  I  were  you  I  wouldn't  take  so  much  of  that  Bourbon  ; — 
it's  strengthening,  I  know,  but  it  don't  seem  to  agree  with 
you.  And  it  isn't  half  as  good  for  neuralgia  as  Burgundy. 
You  know  what  Ell  Gelston  says !  He  is  not  a  Doctor,  I 
admit,  but  he  stands  very  high  at  the  Bar ;  and  he  says  there 
is  nothing  like  Burgundy  and  buckskin  for  neuralgia.  I  wish 
I  could  get  you  to  wear  a  suit  of  chamois." 

"  A  suit  of  chamois  ! "  groaned  Mr.  Ledgeral ;  "  and  in 
the  dog  days  ? " 

"  Well,  well  !  my  dear.  I  don't  insist  upon  that ;  but  be 
sure  you  exchange  Bourbon  for  Burgundy,  and  don't  fail  to 
write  regularly  and  let  me  know  how  you  are.  I  wouldn't  go 
if  I  didn't  think  you  would  write  or  telegraph  at  once." 


448  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"  Oh,  go  !  go  !  and  " — Mr.  Ledgeral  almost  uttered  some 
thing  not  only  profane,  but  quite  impolite.  He  refrained 
however,  and  merely  added — "  go  and  enjoy  yourself,  and 
don't  hurry  home  on  my  account ;  I  shall  do  well  enough. 
You  can  devote  yourself  wholly  to  looking  after  Helen  and 
the  Count  without  regard  to  me.  Keep  them  together  and 
away  from  the  city  as  long  as  you  can.  There  is  nothing  like 
a  course  at  a  summer  hotel  or  watering-place  when  you  have 
once  got  the  inside  track.  You  know  your  philosophic  friend, 
Boggs,  says  that  the  elective  affinity  of  the  sexes  follows  the 
law  of  gravitation  and  increases  inversely  as  the  square  of  the 
distance,  and  that  nine-tenths  of  marriages  are  merely  the 
result  of  propinquity.  Keep  them  then  in  as  close  contact  as 
possible  and  in  time  they  will  coalesce."  And  Mr.  Ledgeral 
condescended  to  a  delicate  matrimonial  pinch,  and  a  sly  con 
nubial  wink,  as  he  almost  pushed  her  out  of  the  room. 

Mrs.  Ledgeral  was  delighted ;  she  had  not  seen  him  so 
vivacious  and  so  facetious  for  a  long  time. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

Arrival  of  the  Spoondrift  —  Coincidences  —  Table-talk  —  The   Doctor's 
Conundrum  —  Specimen  of  Whoppers'  style. 

THE  morning  after  Luther's  visit  to  Hoboken  he  went 
down  to  his  breakast  at  the  usual  hour.  Miss  Jones  was 
at  her  seat  in  a  morning  robe  of  white  embroidered  muslin, 
so  nicely  got  up,  and  fitting  so  neatly,  that  two  or  three  of  the 
ladies  at  the  lower  end  of  the  table  put  their  heads  together, 
and  pronounced  it  perfectly  ridiculous.  In  fact,  if  it  could 
have  been  proved,  then  and  there,  that  it  had  just  come  from 
Worth's,  it  could  not  have  more  justly  excited  their  honest 
indignation.  "  The  idea  !  An  old  maid,  forty  years  old  if 
she  is  a  single  day,  although  she  calls  herself  thirty-five,  to  go 
and  dress  like  a  girl  of  twenty ;  and  such  extravagance ! 
Says  it's  all  machine,  and  that  she  did  it  herself.  Don't 
believe  a  word  of  it.  More  likely  she  got  it  at  Stewart's,  and 
ran  in  debt  for  it." 

"But  they  wouldn't  trust  her  at  Stewart's." 

"I  shouldn't  think  they  would — a  woman  that  would  wear 
such  an  absurd  little  cap,  blue  and  orange  bows  ;  just  like  a 
flock  of  humming  birds  ;  because  she  thinks  she  has  got  such 
a  delicate  complexion !  That  ridiculous  fellow,  Whoppers, 
humbugged  her  one  day,  by  telling  her  that  her  cheeks  were 
like  primroses." 

"More  like  a  peony,  I  think." 

"  Yes,  or  like  a  hard-burned  brick  ;  and  look  at  the  size 
of  it.  Why  don't  she  wear  a  decent-sized  cap, — or  go  with 
out,  if  she  wishes  to  show  that  she  hasn't  any  gray  hairs, — 
instead  of  that  little  unbecoming  fmnicky  thing,  hardly  large 
enough  to  cover  the  bald  spot  on  the  top  of  her  head?" 


450  XEl'ER  ACALY. 

Mr.  Whoppers  sat  in  his  usual  seat,  and  in  his  usual  po 
sition,  that  is  sideways,  or  "  bias"  as  Miss  Jones  called  it, 
with  his  elbow  resting  on  the  table,  and  the  morning  paper  in 
his  hand. 

As  Luther  entered,  Mr.  Whoppers  handed  the  journal  to 
him.  "  There's  good  news  for  you,  he  cried ;  there  in  the 
shipping  list.  Arrived  yesterday  afternoon,  the  Spoondrift, 
Captain  Combings,  one  hundred  and  ten  days  from  Sidney, 
New  South  Wales." 

Luther  scanned  the  paper  with  avidity,  and  fastened  his 
eyes  upon  the  item,  so  that  he  did  not  observe  the  sudden 
start  of  his  hostess,  or  her  heightened  color.  The  coffee-urn 
concealed  her  confusion  from  the  more  acute  eyes  of  the 
ladies;  but  it  was  noticed  that  she  allowed  the  hot  water  to 
dribble  over  the  clean  cloth,  and  actually  put  in  three  lumps 
of  sugar  to  Luther's  cup  instead  of  two.  She  recovered  her 
self,  however,  in  time  to  look  downright  mad,  as  Mrs.  Lunsly 
remarked  to  Mrs.  Bignall,  when  Mr.  Whoppers  suggested  that 
the  Captain  might  want  his  old  room, — fortunately  vacant — 
and  might  be  expected  to  ring  the  bell  at  any  moment. 

Mr.  Whoppers'  words  were  hardly  out  of  his  mouth  when 
the  door-bell  did  ring,  and  the  Captain's  voice  was  heard  in 
the  hall. 

It  is  curious  how  frequently  these  little  coincidences  occur. 
"  Speak  of  the  devil,"  is  a  proverb  in  all  languages.  And  not 
alone  little  coincidences,  but  many  striking  and  wonderful 
ones,  happening  in  the  course  of  each  individual  life,  leave 
but  few  excited  minds  unbewildered  by  their  glare.  They  are 
the  great,  but  not  the  peculiar,  staple  of  the  novelist.  They 
play  as  important  a  part  in  real  life  as  in  the  pages  of  fiction. 
They  are  the  pabulum  of  spiritualism,  and  superstition,  and 
quackery.  If  one-half  of  all  that  the  majority  of  men  think, 
know,  and  believe  is  wrong  and  false ;  the  coincidence  of 
events  and  circumstances  that  have  no  real  connection,  and 
the  sustenance  thus  afforded  to  the  illogical  faculty,  will  be 
found  at  the  bottom  of  the  trouble.  And  no  wonder,  perhaps, 
when  we  consider  the  wonderful  character  sometimes  of  the 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


45 T 


coincidence.  We  have  half  a  mind  to  stop  here  and  relate  a 
case  in  point  that  actually  occurred.  We  will,  since  it  is  not  at 
all  necessary  that  the  reader  should  stop  with  us. 

It  was  on  the  broad  Atlantic,  below  the  Island  of  Tene- 
riffe,  and  on  the  deck  of  a  man-of-war,  commanded  by  a  rough 
sailor  of  the  old  school.  Excessively  eccentric  and  irascible, 
he  had  acquired  by  his  strange  freaks,  and  ebullitions  of  tem 
per,  the  sobriquet  of  Mad  Jack.  He  was  known  also  to  be 
excessively  uxorious,  fond  of  talking  about  his  wife,  and  des 
perately  anxious  for  news  from  Boston.  A  young  man,  having 
a  close  resemblance  to  the  writer,  but  alas  !  with  a  difference 
for  which  Time  is  justly  to  be  blamed — a  passenger  in  the 
Captain's  cabin,  having  no  official  connection  with  the  ship — 
was  standing  among  a  group  of  officers,  with  a  spy-glass  in  his 
hand  directed  to  a  distant  sail,  that  was  just  lifting  her  top 
sails  above  the  horizon.  The  Captain  bustled  out  of  his  cabin 
in  his  usual  impetuous  and  impatient  manner.  "  What's  that ! 
What's  that ! "  he  exclaimed  without  deigning  a  glance  at  the 
distant  ship.  The  glimmer  of  a  good  joke  flashed  through  the 
idle  brain  of  the  youngster.  Does  the  reader  understand  what 
it  is,  or  rather  was,  to  joke  with  a  Captain  of  a  man-of-war,  on 
his  own  quarter-deck  ?  The  folly  of  such  a  performance  can 
not  perhaps  be  fully  conceived  by  a  landsman.  Knowing  the 
Captain's  desire  to  hear  from  Boston,  but  having  no  personal 
knowledge  of  that  intellectual  city ;  and  having  only,  to  his 
shame  be  it  said,  the  most  vague  and  indefinite  associations 
with  any  notable  body  or  thing  Bostonian,  the  young  man, 
dropping  the  spy-glass,  replied  jokingly,  with  the  first  name 
that  came  into  his  head.  "  Oh,  she's  the  Josiah  Quincy  of 
Boston."  Instantly,  without  listening  for  another  word,  and 
without  waiting  for  the  intervention  of  the  officer  of  the  deck, 
the  Captain  shouted  out  orders  for  a  change  in  the  corvette's 
course.  Not  a  word  of  explanation  could  be  got  in,  and  the 
frightened  joker  saw  the  yards  braced  up  and  the  spanker 
hauled  out,  and  in  less  than  two  minutes  the  ship  standing 
close  hauled  for  the  stranger,  while  the  Captain  bustled  back 
into  his  cabin. 


452  NEVER    AGAIN. 

"Well,  if  you  don't  catch  it!  "  said  one  officer. 

"The  old  man  will  go  stark  staring  mad,  when  we  over 
haul  her,"  said  another. 

"  What  could  possess  you  ?  She  is  not  even  an  American, 
to  judge  by  the  set  of  her  sails,"  exclaimed  a  third. 

The  stranger,  seeing  the  alteration  in  the  frigate's  course, 
altered  her  course  to  match,  and,  the  two  vessels  rapidly 
approaching  each  other,  she  soon  backed  her  main  topsail 
under  the  stern  of  the  man-of-war.  The  Captain  rushed  from 
his  cabin,  mounted  the  poop-deck,  and  seized  the  trumpet 
himself. 

"  What  ship  is  that  ? " 

Imagine  the  amazement  of  the  group  of  officers  and  the 
almost  consternation  of  the  reckless  joker,  when  the  answer 
came  back — "The  Quincy  of  Boston." 

"How  long  out?  "  demanded  the  Captain. 

"  Three  weeks." 

"  Got  any  letters  for  anybody  ? " 

"  Not  a  letter." 

"  Got  any  newspapers  ? " 

"  Not  a  newspaper." 

"Well,  fill  away,  sir.  You're  a  d — d  pretty  fellow  to 
come  out  without  any  newspapers.  I'd  like  to  have  you  on 
board  here  about  ten  minutes ;  I'd  teach  you.  Fill  away, 
sir;  fill  away,"  and  cursing  and  grumbling,  the  irate  Captain 
dove  down  again  into  his  cabin. 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  the  companions  of  the  young 
man  could  disabuse  their  minds  of  a  belief  in  some  special 
power  of  vision  that  had  enabled  him  to  read  the  name  on 
the  stern  of  the  stranger  when  her  hull  was  below  the  hori 
zon  ;  or,  bating  that  manifest  impossibility,  to  resist  the 
suggestion  that  some  intimate  relations  with  the  Evil  One 
had  endowed  him  with  a  supernatural  power  of  guessing  the 
names  of  any  and  all  vessels  afloat.  Ten  thousand  failures 
would  have  been  forgotten  in  the  brilliancy  of  that  one  single 
successful  hit,  which  was  nothing  but  a  coincidence,  almost 
infinitely  more  lucky  than  likely. 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


453 


Captain  Combings'  rubicund  face  glowed  with  added 
color,  and  his  eyes  beamed  with  unwonted  light  at  the 
reception  that  awaited  him.  More  than  half  the  boarders 
rose  from  the  table  to  grasp  his  hand,  and  expressions  of 
welcome  were  showered  on  all  sides.  Even  Dr.  Droney 
condescended  to  say  that  "  he  was  gratified  to  observe  that 
God  had  seen  fit  to  preserve  a  person  for  whom  he  had  so 
much  respect  through  all  the  perils  of  the  great  deep." 

But  it  was  when  it  came  the  turn  of  Miss  Jones  and  the 
Captain  that  the  scene  reached  its  highest  manifestations  of 
pleasing  and  profound  sentiment.  The  Captain  worked  his 
way  steadily  to  the  head  of  the  table.  Miss  Jones  rose  from 
her  seat,  every  little  bow  and  frill  quivering  with  delight.  The 
Captain  squared  himself,  gave  one  glance  alow  and  aloft ; 
took  in,  in  an  instant,  every  little  perfection  of  hull  and  rig 
ging  ;  and  bowed  two  or  three  times  in  his  most  impressive 
quarter-deck  style.  Miss  Jones  responded  with  a  graceful 
courtesy,  and  extended  her  hand,  which  the  Captain  seized 
in  both  of  his  and  retained  longer  than  was  at  all  necessary, 
according  to  Miss  Billings,  who  said  she  "believed  he 
squeezed  it — Miss  Jones  turned  so  red  in  the  face."  At  any 
rate,  Miss  Jones  had  to  struggle  a  little  to  get  it  away. 

"  Oh,  Captain,  we  are  delighted  !  "  But  the  Captain's 
look  of  intense  admiration  cut  short  the  complimentary 
speech — she  hung  her  head  and  dropped  into  her  chair,  while 
he  continued  bowing,  and  blandly  smiling. 

"  We  are  delighted,"  she  resumed,  "  that  you  have  got 
safe  back  again.  Come,  Captain,  here  is  a  vacant  seat — do 
you  take  coffee  or  tea  ?  " 

•'  Pardon  me :  I  kept  you  standing,"  replied  the  Captain 
glancing  round  the  table,  "  but  we  sailors  are  a  singular  set, 
and  when  we  meet  such  a  beautiful,  neatly  rigged  craft,  we 
forget  ourselves.  I  hope  you  will  excuse  me.  I  was  too 
busy  ducking  my  flag,  and  lowering  my  topsails,  but  it  was 
all  out  of  admiration."  And  the  Captain  pointed  the  compli 
ment  by  placing  his  hand  on  his  heart,  and  again  bowing  to 
Miss  Jones. 


454 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


"  Was  there  ever  such  a  monster  ? "  Miss  Billings  would 
have  parodied  Trinculo,  and  exclaimed,  "  a  most  ridiculous 
monster,  to  make  a  wonder  of  a  plain  overdressed  old  maid  !  " 

Miss  Jones  hardly  knew  which  way  to  turn,  and  had  to 
hide  her  face  behind  the  coffee-urn,  while  the  Captain  dropped 
into  the  chair  at  her  side. 

For  a  few  moments  his  attention  was  taken  in  reply  to  the 
inquirers  as  to  his  voyage  and  adventures,  and  the  conversa 
tion  became  quite  general. 

"  Very  sweet,  Captain  ?"  murmured  Miss  Jones,  with  the 
sugar-tongs  in  her  hand. 

"  Very  sweet,"  replied  the  Captain,  sotto  voce,  and  looking 
Miss  Jones  full  in  the  eyes. 

"  Sarah,  bring  some  hot  hash  for  the  Captain.  You  will 
take  hash,  Captain  ? " 

"  Certainly,  my  dear  Miss  Jones.  As  Speed  says,  '  though 
the  chameleon  love  can  feed  on  air,  I  am  one  that  am  nour 
ished  by  my  victuals,  and  would  fain  have  meat.'" 

"  Ah !  Captain,  you  don't  like  hash  then  ;  let  me  order 
you  a  mutton-chop  or  a  beef-steak." 

"No,  no,  thank  you.  I  am  not  that  ravenous  that  hash 
will  not  serve  my  turn.  Few  things  are  better  than  hash," 
observed  the  Captain  aloud,  "especially  when  the  chopping- 
knife  has  been  plied  under  the  supervision  of  such  bright  eyes 
as  those  of  our  hostess." 

Miss  Jones'  blushes  tumbled,  a  perfect  cataract  of  color, 
from  her  cheeks,  down  her  dimpled  neck,  until  they  could  be 
seen  flashing  their  crimson  tints  through  the  fluttering  folds 
of  her  chemisette. 

"  Did  you  ever  ? "  said  Miss  Billings  to  her  neighbor. 

"  No  I  never  !  "  replied  Mrs.  Bignall. 

"  Hash,"  continued  the  Captain  sententiously,  "  is  first 
cousin  to  lobscouse,  and  lobscouse  is  food  for  kings.  Pardon 
me,  ladies  ;  I  should  say  food  for  queens." 

"  Lobscouse !  lobscouse !  Oh,  Captain,  what  is  lob 
scouse?"  chorused  half-a-dozen  voices. 

The  Captain  gravely  shook  his  head.     "  Lobscouse  is  a 


NEVER  AGAIN.  455 

iiiystery, — it  would  take  me  an  hour  at  least  to  explain.  I 
will,  however,  give  the  cook  a  lesson  some  day,  and  she  shall 
show  you  what  it  is, — that  is,  with  the  permission  of  our  fair 
hostess." 

"Oh,  certainly,  Captain,"  murmured  Miss  Jones.  "Any 
thing  you  please,  Captain  ;  it  must  be  lovely." 

"But  do  you  always  eat  lobscouse  at  sea?"  inquired 
Miss  Billings. 

"  Oh  !  no,  ma'am  ;  if  we  did,  we  should  have  everybody 
going  to  sea.  We  often  have  to  come  down  to  chickens  and 
duff." 

"  Chickens !  oh  dear,  do  you  have  chickens  ?  How  do 
you  get  them  at  sea  ?  " 

"  Catch  them,"  interposed  Mr.  Whoppers.  "  Off  Cape 
Horn  is  a  good  place, — they  always  have/tf^/  weather  there." 

"  Pshaw,  Mr.  Whoppers !  how  can  you  make  a  pun  upon 
such  a  sublime  subject  ?  '  The  sea,  the  sea,  the  rolling 
sea.'  " 

"  No  pun  at  all,  Miss  Billings.  You've  heard  of  the  wings 
of  the  wind,  haven't  you  ?  Well  you  take  a  chopping  sea  and 
slice  off  a  wing  and  serve  it  up,  hot  or  cold,  depending  upon 
your  latitude,  with  a  nice  roll  of  the  sea  stuffed  with  currents." 

"  The  mighty  deep  must  truly  be  a  sublime  object,"  inter 
posed  Dr.  Droney.  "  I  should  like  very  much  to  contem 
plate  it ;  I  don't  mean  from  the  sea-shore.  That  pleasure  it 
has  pleased  Providence  to  grant  me,  on  sundry  and  divers 
occasions,  from  the  piazza  of  the  hotel  at  Long  Branch  ;  but 
I  mean  from  some  point  on  the  broad  ocean." 

"  You  mean,  Doctor,  you  would  like  to  go  down  in  the 
horse  latitudes,  and  time  the  sea  running,  and  watch  the 
jockey  waves  in  their  white  caps  comb  the  Spanish  main," 

"How  can  you  be  so  absurd?"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Lashet. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mrs.  Lasher ;  you  may  be  a  judge 
of  all  kinds  of  land  spirits.  I  never  said  you  were  not,  but 
you  don't  understand  the  spirits  of  the  vasty  deep.  There  is 
nothing  absurd  in  what  I  have  said.  If  the  Doctor  goes 
down  into  the  great  deep,  he  will  come  up  again  with  a  white 


456  XKVER  AGAIN. 

cap  and  a  piece  of  real  salt  spray  stuck  in  it ;  and  that  you 
must  admit  would  be  a  feather  in  his  cap  !  Don't  you  think 
so,  Mrs.  Lasher  ?  And  I  do  hope  that  if  he  encounters  any  hur 
ricanes  he  will  select  the  biggest  and  put  a  head  on  it.  You 
know  he  can  take  the  head  off  a  head  sea  and  bring  it  home 
with  him ;  one  good  blow  with  such  a  cane  would  send  all 
the  Spencerites  and  Darwinites  scudding." 

The  Doctor  gave  a  groan,  and  trying  to  swallow  a  sip  of 
tea  at  the  same  time,  there  was  for  a  few  moments  a  terrible 
sputtering. 

"Or  perhaps,  Doctor,  you  mean  that  you  would  like  to  get 
into  an  inland  sea.  That  would  suit  you  better.  Say  an 
Episcopal  see — the  see  of  New  York  or  New  Jersey,  for 
instance." 

"  I  mean,  sir,  what  I  say,  sir.  I  always  mean  what  I  say. 
I  should  like  to  launch  my  bark  upon  the  broad  ocean.  I 
should  like  to  see  the  glory  of  God  and  His  wonders  in  the 
great  deep.  I  should  like  to  see  what  the  illimitable  expanse 
of  the  ocean  is  like." 

"  Like  !  I  don't  think  you  would  like  it  at  all.  Take  my 
word  for  it,  Doctor,  it  isn't  a  likely  place ;  you'd  find  it  a 
retched  affair ;  you'd  soon  get  sick  of  it ;  and  as  for  your  bark 
— well,  your  bark  would  be  a  great  deal  better  than  your  bite, 
even  if  you  did  not  find  your  bark  drowned  by  the  howl  of  the 
winds  and  waves.  Content  yourself  in  marine  matters  with 
the  sea-shore  and  the  docks  and  wharves,  and  now  and  then 
getting  half  seas  over  and  taking  a  roll  on  the  beach,  or  under 
the  beeches  ;  it's  all  the  same  thing  you  know,  when  you  are 
in  that  condition  of  see-saw  that  you  say  you  would  like  to  be 
in.  I've  had  experience,  and  I  can  tell  you  that  it  is  a  great 
deal  nicer  to  see  a  ship  than  to  ship  a  sea.  And  think  of 
another  fact,  Doctor,  that  the  raging  billows  are  never  con 
tent  with  heaving  up  the  ship,  they'd  make  you  heave  up  too. 
I'm  told  its  harder  on  clergymen  than  other  people." 

"  Why  so,  sir  ?  "  demanded  the  Doctor. 

"Because  your  profession  is  one  that  makes  it,  almost  for 
any  reason,  a  sin  to  throw  up.  I  don't  say  that  you  would  go 


NEVER  AGAIN.  457 

as  far  as  that,  but  if  you  should  happen  to  over-eat  yourself, 
and,  from  what  the  Captain  says  of  lobscouse,  that  might  hap 
pen,  you  would  unquestionably  have  to  throw  up  your  sur 
plice. 

'  Besides,"  continued  the  incorrigible  Whoppers,  "the  sea 
is  not  much  to  see ;  it  is  no  great  shakes ;  it  is  no  better  than 
a  street  row  !  " 

"  A  street  row  ! "  exclaimed  the  Doctor.  "  What  nonsense, 
sir.  How  is  the  sea  like  a  street  row  ? " 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Whoppers,  giving  a 
slight  tap  on  the  table, — "  the  Doctor  does  us  the  honor  to 
propose  a  conundrum — " 

"  I  have  proposed  no  conundrum,"  testily  interposed  the 
Doctor.  "  I  never  did  propose  a  conundrum." 

"  Oh  yes,  you  did,  sir.  You  asked  why  the  ocean  is  like  a 
street  row.  Isn't  that  a  conundrum  ?  Ladies,  can  any  of  you 
answer  the  Doctor's  conundrum  ?  You  can't?  Well  I  think  I 
can  guess  it.  It's  because  there  is  plenty  of  breakers -o'head. 
Good,  isn't  it  ?  Doctor,  I'll  mark  you  down  one." 

The  Doctor  shoved  back  his  chair  in  sheer  disgust,  and 
was  followed  by  the  sympathizing  Mrs.  Lasher  ancf  Miss  Bil 
lings.  To  be  accused  thus  publicly  of  making  a  conundrum — 
to  have  a  pun  thrust  upon  him  at  the  breakfast-table  in  this 
outrageous  way — it  was  too  much — it  was  more  than  clerical 
flesh  and  blood  could  bear !  Something  must  be  done. 
Whoppers  was  getting  to  be  intolerable ;  he  must  be  quelled, 
subdued,  reduced  to  order,  and  taught  the  respect  that  is  due 
to  the  cloth  ! 

The  Doctor  was  not  a  ready  man,  but  with  proper  premedi 
tation  he  was  powerful.  He  would  concoct  a  reproof  that 
would  wither  Whoppers.  Mrs.  Lasher  and  Miss  Billings  prom 
ised  to  assist  in  its  administration.  He  had  several  times 
deeply  offended  both  ladies,  and  though  not  drawing  very  close 
together  in  other  matters  they  both  felt  alike  in  this,  that,  if 
the  Doctor  could  once  get  the  offender  fairly  down,  they 
would  gladly  join  hands,  or  rather  tongues,  in  a  little  feminine 
objurgation. 


458  NEVER  AGAIN. 

Luther  had  been  impatiently  waiting  for  the  Captain  to 
finish  his  breakfast.  The  Captain,  however,  glowing  and 
expanding  with  more  than  his  usual  benignity  under  the 
smiles  of  Miss  Jones,  seemed  in  no  hurry,  and  the  lady  herself 
evidently  felt  none  of  her  usual  impatience  for  the  conclusion 
of  the  meal.  The  insinuating  persistence  with  vhich  she 
pressed  plate  after  plate  of  buckwheat  cakes  upon  her  guest 
was  remarked  by  all  lingering  at  the  table,  and  by  none  more 
clearly  than  by  Mr.  Whoppers,  who,  alternately  sipping  his 
coffee  and  running  his  eye  over  the  newspaper,  seemed  to  have 
his  attention  fully  employed. 

"  Do,  Captain,  try  these.  These  are  beauties.  The  first 
that  come  up  are  never  so  nice ;  it  is  only  towards  the  last 
that  you  can  get  them  really  crisp  and  beautiful." 

"I  suppose  later  the  griddle  gets  hotter,  my  dear  Miss 
Jones  ? " 

"Yes,  and  the  batter  gets  smoother  and  stronger." 

"  Typical,  isn't  it  ? "  demanded  the  Captain,  with  a  sly 
look  that  made  Miss  Jones'  drop  her  eyes  to  her  plate. 

"Of  what,  you  would  ask?  of  love,  my  dear  Miss  Jones. 
The  first  ladleful  of  fond  fancies  that  Cupid  tries  to  cook, 
almost  always  turn  out  pale,  flabby  affairs.  But  wait  a  while, 
and  then  you  have  the  crisp,  well-done  article.  The  griddle 
is  hotter,  my  dear  Miss  Jones,  and  frequent  stirring  has  made, 
as  you  say,  the  batter  stronger  and  smoother." 

"  Hurry  up  them  cakes  !  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Whoppers. 

"Dear  me,  Mr.  Whoppers,  do  you  want  a  plate  of  fresh 
cakes?  Here,  Sarah." 

"Oh  no,  Madam.  No  more  cakes  for  me.  I  was  only 
thinking  that  if  a  fellow  does  wait  till  the  griddle  is  hot,  the 
cakes  will  coo  unless  you  hurry  'em  up.  Good  morning, 
Miss  Jones. 

"  Good-morning,  Captain,"  and  Mr.  Whoppers  rose  from 
the  table  and  strolled  out  of  the  room,  and  his  example  was 
immediately  followed  by  Luther  and  the  Captain. 

"  Oh,  Captain,  I  am  so  glad  you  have  got  back,"  exclaimed 
Luther  as  he  led  the  way  into  his  own  room,  and,  shutting  the 
door,  turned  and  seized  the  Cantain's  hand. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  459 

"Are  you,  my  dear  boy?  Well,  I  am  delighted  to  get 
back  myself.  I  ought  to  have  been  in  ten  days  ago,  but  good 
news  always  sails  with  double-reefed  topsails;  her  sheets 
hauled  well  aft ;  while  bad  news  shakes  out  every  thing  and 
keeps  stun-sails  set  every  minute  from  tripping  to  mooring." 

"  By  which  figure,"  said  Luther,  "  I  am  to  understand  that 
you  have  something  pleasant  to  tell." 

"  Exactly  ;  and  first  and  foremost  the  voyage  has  been  gen 
erally  a  most  successful  one.  Have  had  a  good  run  out  and 
back;  cargo  delivered  in  fine  order;  ship  sails  like  a  witch. 
You  should  see  her  on  a  bowline  !  and  so  weatherly  !  No 
slumping  off  to  leeward  like  a  parson  preaching  politics.  She 
makes  a  close  point,  and  weathers  on  it.  But  there  is  no  use 
in  praising  her.  She'll  do,  and  I  tell  you  what,  we  have  made 
a  good  thing  in  buying  into  her.  God  bless  you,  my  boy,  for 
it,  and  after  you  your  old  Frenchwoman.  May  you  both 
live  to  see  the  Spoondrift  die  a  natural  death  and  be  broken 
up  for  fire-wood,  and  that  will  be  nigh  on  to  a  hundred  years, 
if  there  is  any  virtue  in  copper  bolts,  live-oak  futtocks,  and 
locust  top-timbers. 

"But  I  must  tell  you  about  our  venture,"  continued  the 
Captain,  "your  venture,  rather.  Nothing  could  be  luckier. 
The  market  was  completely  bare  of  everything  in  the  way  of 
Yankee  notions.  There  wasn't  a  pail,  churn,  bowl,  or  wooden 
spoon  in  town.  Not  even  a  clothes-pin,  and  as  for  clocks, 
why  every  woman  and  child  in  Sydney  was  hankering  after  a 
wooden  clock.  I  just  cleared  out  the  whole  lot  in  a  lump, 
and  as  the  fellow  offered  one  hundred  per  cent,  profit,  and 
cash  down,  I  thought  I  wouldn't  try  to  brace  up  any  closer 
on  that  tack.  You  can  pay  back  your  loan  to  Madame  Steig- 
nitz,  and  chalk  yourself  up  a  clean  five  thousand  ! " 

Instead  of  expressing  any  elation,  Luther  replied  with  a 
downright  doleful  look,  and  a  shake  of  the  head. 

The  Captain  was  astonished  and  disturbed. 

"Why,  Luther,  you  didn't  dream  of  over  a  hundred  per 
cent,  did  you  ?  You  did  not  expect  to  more  than  double  your 
money,  did  you?" 


460  NEVER  AGAIN. 

The  Captain  repeated  his  question  in  such  an  anxious  and 
lugubrious  tone  that  it  made  Luther  laugh  outright. 

"  My  good  friend,  pardon  me.  I  received  your  good  news 
with  an  ill  grace.  Five  thousand  dollars  !  why  it's  a  fortune, 
or  rather  it's  the  germ  of  a  fortune ;  what  an  acorn  is  tc  an 
oak,  five  thousand  dollars  is  to  a  fortune.  It  contains,  as  Dr. 
Johnson  would  phrase  it,  the  potentiality  of  wealth  beyond  the 
dreams  of  avarice.  I  have  heard  that  it  was  a  saying  of 
Astor,  that  his  first  thousand  cost  him  more  trouble  than  his 
millions  did  afterward.  I  ought  to  jump  for  joy,  and  if  you 
had  arrived  about  ten  days  ago,  I  suppose  I  should  have  given 
a  specimen  of  my  agility,  but  now,  Captain,  I  have  got  some 
thing  that  weighs  me  down.  I  am  good  for  nothing,  in  a  sal 
tatory  way,  but  a  clog-dance.  You  said  that  I  could  pay  the 
money  I  owe  Madame  Steignitz.  Alas  !  that  is  just  what  I 
can't  do.  I  can  find  no  Madame  Steignitz  to  pay  it  to." 

The  Captain  jumped  up  from  his  chair,  and  put  his  hand 
on  Luther's  shoulder.  "  What  do  you  mean  ?"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Just  what  I  say, — that  I  can  find  no  Madame  Steignitz 
to  pay  it  to." 

"  Run  under  ?  Gone  down  ?  demanded  the  Captain 
with  an  expressive  gesture. 

"  No !  that  is,  I  hope  not,  and  I  think  not ;"  and  Mr. 
Whoppers  here  thinks  as  I  do,"  replied  Luther,  opening  the 
door  in  answer  to  a  slight  tap  and  ushering  the  Editor  into  the 
room. 

"  I  do.  I  thought  differently  at  first,  but  I  quite  agree  with 
our  young  friend  now,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers  ;  "  the  old 
woman  hasn't  gone  under  yet,  I'm  sure,  but  she  has  got 
among  the  breakers,  and  there  is  no  telling  how  long  she  will 
last.  But  I  want  you  to  come  down  to  my  room.  Boggs  is 
there,  and  we'll  have  a  regular  conspiracy.  He  is  quite  inter 
ested  in  the  affair,  and  I  don't  know  a  fellow  whose  opinion 
on  matters  and  things  in  general  I'd  take  sooner  than  Boggs'. 
Socially,  Boggs  is  a  humbug,  but  strip  off  his  kid  gloves,  and 
you  won't  easily  find  a  fellow  who  can  hit  out  straighter  or 
harder,  physically,  intellectually,  or  morally  than  Boggs. 


I 


NE  VER  A  GAIN.  46 1 

Come  down,  come  down,  or  I  shall  bring  him  up  here.  There 
is  more  room  in  my  quarters.  Come  down  Captain,  and  Lu 
ther  shall  go  over  the  whole  story." 

Bustling  about  his  room,  Whoppers  arranged  seats,  and 
rubbed  his  hands  with  delight.  Here  was  an  inkling  of  real 
adventure.  Here  was  the  beginning  of  an  actual  acted  maga 
zine  romance.  Wouldn't  he  dress  it  all  up  and  fill  in  all  the 
details  and  give  character,  conversation,  and  incident  all  as 
large  as  life  and  a  little  larger,  and  not  a  newspaper  reporter 
should  know  a  word  of  it  until  it  appeared  in  the  Universe? 

The  Captain  explained  that  he  was  pressed  for  time  and 
must  be  back  to  his  shop  within  an  hour,  at  the  farthest,  but 
Luther  had  not  half  finished  his  story  before  he  quite  got  over 
his  hurry.  Mr.  Boggs  also  grew  thoroughly  excited,  although 
with  him  it  was  much  more  purely  an  intellectual  problem. 
He  had  no  personal  interest  in  the  old  woman,  except  so  far 
as  her  oddities  of  character  or  manner,  as  detailed  by  Luther, 
excited  his  curiosity,  but  he  felt  strongly  the  detective  spirit> 
which  more  or  less  animates  us  all  when  we  have  presented 
to  us  a  case  of  mysterious  crime.  And  he  felt  fiercely  the 
hunting  instinct,  the  desire  to  pursue  and  run  down  something 
or  somebody, — the  disposition  to  follow  the  furtive  common 
to  dogs  and  men; — which  was  in  his  case  intensified  by  the 
unconscious  longing  of  a  vigorous  animality  to  escape  for  a 
while  from  the  utterly  inane  and  stupid  conventionalities  of 
society,  and  from  the  lazy,  lounging  unexciting  life  of  a  society- 
man. 

As  the  reader  is  acquainted  with  the  facts,  so  far  as  Luther 
could  relate  them,  it  would  be  a  waste  of  time  to  go  into  all 
the  details  of  the  conference. 

There  could  be  but  one  opinion  as  to  the  necessity  of  find 
ing  out,  as  a  first  step,  the  haunts  and  abodes  of  the  suspected 
parties.  This  could  only  be  done  by  Luther  himself,  as  he 
alone  had  a  sufficient  idea  of  their  personal  appearance,  while 
at  the  same  time  he  himself  was  to  them  quite  unknown,  or 
at  least  so  little  known  that  a  moderate  disguise  would  answer 
the  purposes  of  perfect  concealment 


462  NEVER   AGAIN. 

But  what  kind  of  disguise?  it  was  evident  that  the  search 
must  be  pursued  in. some  kind  of  character.  It  would  never 
do  for  him  to  visit  all  the  low  cafes  and  foreign  drinking-dens 
in  the  city  dressed  up  in  the  usual  style  of  young  and  genteel 
America.  A  hundred  suspicious  eyes  would  mark  him  in  an 
instant ;  and,  if  the  objects  of  his  search  were  at  all  on  their 
guard,  his  quest  would  fail,  even  if  he  himself  came  by  no  per 
sonal  misadventures.  The  difficulty  was  settled  by  a  propo 
sition  from  the  Captain,  the  nature  and  character  of  which 
will, develop  itself  in  due  course.  It  met  with  unanimous  ap 
probation. 

"Just  the  thing,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers;  " between  you 
both  you  won't  have  to  make-believe  more  than  half  the  char 
acter  ;  and,  by-the-by,  I  will  have  the  things  to  rig  out  Luther 
down  at  my  editorial  rooms.  My  office  will  be  a  good  point 
o'f  departure." 

"  But, "  exclaimed  Luther,  addressing  the  Captain,  "  how 
can  you  afford  the  time  ?  I  cannot  lose  a  day,  and  the  affairs 
of  the  Spoonclrift  are  also  urgent." 

"  I  must  manage  it  somehow,  my  dear  boy,"  replied  the 
Captain.  ''  The  Spoondrift  can't  begin  to  unload  for  a  week 
yet,  and  in  the  meantime  somebody  must  look  out  for  her. 
Meet  me  on  board  of  her  in  a  couple  of  hours,  and  I  will  have 
ii  all  settled,  and  we  will  then  go  up  to  Mr.  Whoppers'  office 
in  Park  Row,  and  take  our  departure  at  once." 

"  And  I  am  to  be  left  out  of  the  adventure  altogether," 
said  Mr.  Boggs,  reproachfully,  almost  mournfully. 

Mr.  Boggs  at  heart  knew  that  he  had  been  masquer 
ading  all  his  life  in  the  character  of  a  society-man, 
and  at  times  he  was  very  much  bored  ;  at  times  he  felt 
horribly  disgusted  with  himself.  Here  was  a  chance  to  try 
a  little  masquerading  in  another  line.  He  had  an  instinct 
ive  longing  to  step  out  of  his  habitual  sphere ;  to  seriously 
knock  against  something  or  somebody ;  to  prove  to  himself 
that  he  had  the  thews  and  sinews  of  a  man.  He  felt  that 
he  had  talents  and  energies  which  had  never  been  exer 
cised,  but  he  knew  it  was  too  late  now  for  more  than  a  fitful 


NEVER  AGAIN.  463 

spurt  into  the  regions  of  adventure — for  more  than  a  short 
turn  now  and  then  with  the  actual  hard-hitting  realities  of 
vulgar  life.  He  knew  that,,  alas!  he  was  a  society-man — 
nothing  but  a  society-man  ;  better,  perhaps,  than  most  of 
his  class,  inasmuch  as  he  felt  the  sad  fact  to  his  very  vitals. 
Years  of  balls,  receptions,  operas,  dinners,  pctits  soupers 
at  Delmonico's,  and  th'es  dansants  at  Sharon  and  Newport 
had  done  their  work  upon  him,  and  melted  his  will  to  wax. 
At  times  he  felt  his  demoralization  acutely  and  mourned  it 
heartily ;  at  times,  when  wandering  into  the  courts  of  law — • 
when  sitting  under  the  pulpit  oratory  of  St.  Thomas',  or  St. 
Mark's,  or  St.  Bartholomew's  or  Grace  Church — or  when 
listening  to  some  learned  lecture  at  Steinway  Hall  or  the 
Cooper  Institute, — or  when  noticing  Parker  or  Agnew,  or 
Vanburen  or  Wood,  01  a  dozen  others  rolling  from  their 
crowded  consultation-rooms  to  appointments  at  College 
and  Hospital,  and  bearing  to  both  the  results  of  a  life-long 
devotion  of  the  highest  talents  to  the  noblest  of  arts, — at 
such  times  he  could  not  help  feeling  a  pang  of  envy  none 
the  less  acute  because  modified  by  a  sentiment  of  contempt 
for  himself.  At  times  he  even  envied  men  of  his  own  class 
— men  intellectually  his  inferiors,  and  just  as  useless.  At 
times  he  envied,  and  with  reason,  Jules  Harding,  who  keeps 
up  a  fair  degree  of  mental  as  well  as  physical  stamina  by  oc 
casional  trips  around  the  world.  He  also  envied  at  times 
Sholty  Lento,  his  impassibility  and  self-conceit,  his  utter 
inability  to  comprehend  how  big  a  fool  he  is,  and  how  big 
a  bore  all  the  girls  think  him.  He  sometimes  envied  Billy 
Burbank  his  complete  absorption  in  the  onerous  duties  of 
chief  gossip-monger  and  tittle-tattle-bearer  in  society.  He 
even  envied  Pete  Lumley,  not  his  ability  to  make  vers  de 
societe,  but  his  surprising  ability  of  belief  in  them  as  poetry, 
after  they  were  made,  and  his  intense  faith  in  the  fact, 
patent  to  every  one,  that  the  Graces  had  been  even  still 
more  kind  to  him  than  the  Muses — his  complete  and  absorb 
ing  conviction  that  not  a  young  girl  in  society  had  the 
least  idea  that  the  season  of  the  sere  and  yellow  leaf  had 


464  NEVER  AGA1-N. 

advanced  upon  him,  or  that  if  it  had,  there  was  any 
thing  more  than  a  slight  change  of  foliage,  infinitely  more 
beautiful  and  enchanting  than  the  crude  green  of  early 
spring  time. 

Mr.  Boggs  envied  at  times  all  these,  but  it  was  a  harmless 
and  innocent  envy.  It  was  but  the  scum  of  bubbling  emotion 
that  at  bottom  was  rather  creditable  than  otherwise.  It 
simply  indicated  higher  instincts,  and  a  clearer  self-apprecia 
tion  at  such  instants  than  usual.  It  was  nothing  more  or 
less  than  part  and  parcel  of  the  feeling  that  made  him  join 
so  heartily  in  a  portion  of  the  general  confession.  He  did 
not  heed  much  the  words  "  we  have  done  many  things  which 
we  ought  not  to  have  done,"  for  Mr.  Boggs  didn't  believe  that 
he  had  done  many  things  that  he  ought  not  to  have  done,  or 
that,  under  the  same  circumstances,  he  would  not  do  again, 
but,  at  the  words  "  we  have  left  undone  many  things  that  we 
ought  to  have  done,"  his  heart  always  gave  a  jump  up  towards 
his  throat,  and  he  always  felt  perfectly  willing  to  add  the 
supplication — "  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  us  miserable  sinners." 

Mr.  Boggs,  then,  as  the  Captain  spoke,  could  not  conceal 
his  mortification  at  seeing  the  chance  of  something-to-do  slip 
away  from — you  are  going  to  leave  me  out  of  the  adventure. 

"  Not  at  all,"  exclaimed  both  the  Captain  and  Mr.  Whop 
pers.  "There  is  no  adventure  as  yet.  Luther  has  to  find 
the  game  first  before  we  can  run  it  down.  There'll  be  an 
adventure  then,  and  a  pretty  desperate  one  too.  I  think  we 
shall  want  your  aid  then,  sure." 

"  Well,  promise  me  that  you  won't  take  any  important  step 
without  consulting  me." 

"  Oh,  no  fear  of  that,"  replied  Mr.  Whoppers,  "  and  to  make 
sure  of  it  suppose  we  all  agree  to  meet  here  each  night  at  ten,  for 
consultation  and  to  hear  a  report  from  Luther  and  the  Captain." 

"  I  am  afraid,  said  Luther,  there  will  be  nothing  to  report." 

"  Well  then,  we  shall  be  quite  as  well  off  as  the  Historical 
Society,  or  the  American  Institute  ;  we'll  have  a  report  perhaps 
about  nothing,  but  at  any  rate  we'll  have  a  report." 

"With  this  understanding  the  Captain,  Luther,  and  Mr. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  465 

Boggs  took  their  departure,  while  Mr.  Whoppers  settled  him 
self,  first  to  making  a  few  notes  of  consultation,  which  could  be 
amplified  to  any  extent,  when  he  came  to  write  out  in  all  its  de 
tails  the  whole  story  for  the  Universe,  and  then  to  the  finish 
ing  of  one  of  his  most  slashing  editorials.  Master  of  a  vigor 
ous  sledge-hammer  style,  nothing  the  Editor  of  the  Universe 
liked  better  than  to  "pitch  in,"  as  he  phrased  it,  to  any  and  all 
of  the  "  isms"  of  the  day :  but  what  particularly  excited  his 
ire  was  any  effort  to  effect  by  legislation  reforms  that  are 
wholly  within  the  province  of  society — any  perversions  of  the 
power  of  government  to  the  purposes  of  rampant  and  confi 
dent,  but  ignorant  and  ill-considered  philanthropy — any  attempt 
by  direct  force  of  law  to  make  men  more  godly,  more  temper 
ate,  more  abstinent,  or  more  continent  than  they  are  compelled 
to  be  by  the  slowly  improving  moral  sense  of  the  community. 
The  text  of  the  article  before  him  was  a  remark  of  the  great 
thinker  of  the  age,  Herbert  Spencer,  d  propcs  of  the  efforts 
made  by  Cromwell  and  the  Puritans  of  England  to  suppress 
all  kinds  of  ungodliness. 

"  What,  now,  was  the  result  of  this  attempt  to  dragoon  men 
into  virtue  !  What  came  when  the  strong  man  who  thought  he 
was  thus  helping  '  God  to  mend  all,'  died  ?  a  dreadful  reaction 
brought  in  one  of  the  most  degraded  periods  of  our  history. 
Into  the  newly-garnished  house  entered  '  seven  other  spirits 
more  wicked  than  the  first.'  For  generations,  the  English 
character  was  lowered  :  vice  was  gloried  in  ;  virtue  was  ridi- 
c  lied  ;  pro  fane  ness  and  obscenity  flourished  ;  high  aspirations 
ceased  ;  the  whole  age  was  corrupt." 

Mr.  Whoppers'  pen,  with  an  ironical  and  sarcastic  twist  in 
it — best  indicated  perhaps  for  the  reader's  contemptous  judg 
ment  by  the  following  extract — ran  rapidly  over  the  paper: 

Alas !  the  Maine  Liquor  Law  has  never  been  thoroughly 
enforced  yet.  And  it  never  will  be  until  we  are  agitated  up 
to  the  proper  mark,  until  we  are  willing  to  begin  at  the  begin 
ning — hang  all  the  distillers  and  brewers,  and  sentence  every 
fellow  found  with  a  lager  jug  or  a  pewter  pint-pot  in  his  hand 
to  six  months  of  penitential -psalm  singing  on  Graham  bread 


466  NEVER  AGAIN. 

and  water.  Sunday  Observances  have  not  yet  been  enforced 
with  sword  and  bayonet ;  and  there  is  no  law  by  which  the 
wicked  wretch  who  looks  upon  every  seventh  day  as  a  day  of 
rest  and  relaxation,  and  a  time  for  the  enjoyment  of  the 
beauties  of  nature  and  art.  can  be  shot  clown  at  once,  if  he 
steps  over  his  own  door-sill,  except  on  his  way  to  church. 
The  tobacco  sin  has  not  yet  received  its  full  and  proper 
attention.  Think  of  the  lectures,  arid  speechifications,  and 
conventions,  and  collections,  that  will  have  to  be  made  betore 
the  extirpation  of  the  evil,  and  the  coming  of  that  glorious 
time  when  the  miserable  devotees  of  nicotine  shall  be  com 
pelled  to  flee  to  the  wildest  recesses  of  the  Alleghanies  and 
the  Rocky  Mountains. 

I  will  indulge  myself  for  a  moment  with  a  picture  which 
my  imagination  conjures  up,  but  which  at  the  rate  we  are 
"  progressing" — I  believe  that  is  the  phrase — will  perhaps, 
ere  long,  be  gloriously  realized.  I  fancy  I  see  a  group  of 
pale-faced,  dyspeptic-looking  chewers  and  smokers  flying,  like 
the  old  Covenanters  of  Scotland,  before  their  unrelenting 
foes,  who  have  followed,  with  godly  perseverance,  their  trails 
of  tobacco-spittle  from  valley  to  valley,  from  crag  to  crag. 
I  see  the  fugitives,  worn  out  and  exhausted,  partly  by  the  us 
of  the  weed,  and  partly  by  the  rapidity  of  their  flight  and  the 
obstacles  of  the  road,  as  they  halt  in  some  supposed  place  of 
safety.  Each  man  draws  his  tobacco-pouch  from  his  pocket, 
and  proceeds  at  once  to  fill  and  light  his  pipe  or  to  mumble 
his  quid.  The  odorous  smoke  rises  amid  the  umbrageous 
foliage  ;  it  floats  on  the  balmy  air  of  the  wilderness,  and,  for 
the  first  time,  in  this  secluded  spot,  since  the  great  fiat  of  crea 
tion,  it  affronts  the  proboscis  of  the  astonished  mosquito.  The 
tobacco-spit  trickles  down  the  mossy  rocks,  spots  the  flowery 
sward,  and  tints  the  surface  of  the  limpid  lake.  Lapped  in 
nicotinean  elysium,  the  incautious  worshippers  of  the  weed 
recline  in  fancied  security,  and  dreamily  talk  of  the  glorious 
olden  time  when  the  spittoon  was  a  necessity  of  household 
tidiness;  when  bunches  of  golden  Havanas  hung  in  every 
shop-window,  and  fine-cut  and  pig-tail  flowed  in  the  streets 
like  water. 

Suddenly,  with  a  yell  that  fairly  makes  the  peaks  of  the 
mountains  tremble  on  their  rocky  basis,  there  bursts  upon 
them,  through  an  unguarded  mountain-pass,  a  legion  of  strong- 
minded  philanthropists,  male  and  female,  all  astraddle  of  the 
biggest  and  most  rampant  hobbies,  and  led  by  a  gallant 
Boston  Claverhouse.  Who  can  depict  the  scene  that  ensues? 


NEVER  AGAIN.  467 

the  consternation  of  the  despairing  but  desperate  band,  on 
the  one  hand  ;  or  the  dash,  the  spirit,  the  elan,  as  the  French 
call  it,  on  the  other — of  the  gleaming  legion  that,  with  flowing 
reins  and  bloody  rowels,  leaps  the  crest  of  the  mountain  and 
sweeps  down  the  gorge,  each  man  with  a  pistol  in  one  'iand 
and  a  sword  in  the  other,  and  each  woman  armed  in  the  same 
manner,  with  the  addition  of  a  double-edged  bowie-knife 
held  firmly  in  her  teeth. 

"  One  volley  from  your  electric  twenty-barrelled  revolvers, 
and  then,  in  the  name  of  St.  Philips  and  our  puritan  ances 
tors,  upon  them  with  the  cold  steel  ! "  shouts  the  Bostonian 
Claverhouse. 

"  Hack  and  hew ! "  scream  his  lieutenants,  quoting  the 
Bible,  just  as  if  they  believed  in  it.  "  Hack  and  hew  !  even 
as  Asa  hewed  Zera  and  his  hundred  thousand  Ethiopians  in 
the  valley  of  Zephatha.  Smite  and  spare  not !  for  have  we 
not  sworn  with  a  loud  voice,  before  the  Lord,  and  with 
shouting  and  with  trumpets,  and  with  much  blowing  in  the 
daily  journals,  even  as  did  Benjamin  and  Judah,  and  the 
strangers  with  them  out  of  Ephraim  and  Manasseh,  at  the 
words  of  Azariah,  that  whosoever  will  not  seek  the  Lord  of 
Massachusetts,  and  the  nations  lying  around  about  and  there 
unto  appertaining,  shall  be  put  to  death,  whether  small  or 
great,  whether  man  or  woman  ?  And  shall  we  not  do  even  as 
we  have  covenanted  before  the  Lord  ?  Shall  we  not  sternly 
execute  the  law  in  such  cases  made  and  provided  ?  Shall  we 
not  utterly  destroy  these  idolaters,  and  their  friends  who 
have  joined  themselves  unto  them — the  wine-bibbers  and  the 
drinkers  of  lager,  and  the  drinkers  of  coffee,  and  the  drinkers 
of  tea  ;  and  lay  waste  their  high  places,  and  cut  down  their 
idols,  even  as  the  king  of  Israel  cut  down  the  idol  of  Maachah, 
his  mother;  and  spoil  all  their  shops  and  their  stores,  and 
smite  all  their  farm-houses  and  their  shanties,  even  as  the 
king  of  Israel  aforesaid  spoiled  all  the  cities,  and  smote  all 
the  tents  round  about  Gerar  ?  On !  on,  then  !  let  us  do 
swiftly  a  mighty  work — the  work  of  the  Lord !  " 

The  battle  rages  !  swords  rise  and  fall  with  the  rapidity 
and  regularity  of  flails  on  a  barn  floor  at  a  threshing-bee. 
The  gleam  of  ten  thousand  bowie-knives  lights  up,  with  a 
terrific  glare,  the  sombre  hemlock  foliage  of  the  secluded 
valley.  The  brook  for  a  while  flows  with  blood  and  water, 
but  soon  the  crimson  tide  coagulates  and  dams  itself  with 
huge  clots.  Pipes  ancl  cigars  fall  from  lips  quivering  in 
death,  and  quids  jump  from  gaping  mouths  as  the  severed 


468  NEVER  AGAIN. 

heads  bound  down  the  reddened  rocks  and  roll  along  through 
the  bloody  bushes.  Morality  and  philanthropy,  and  the 
laws  of  a  paternal  government  have  triumphed  !  The  last 
smoker  has  smoked  his  last  pipe  ;  the  last  chewer  has  chewed 
his  last  quid ;  or,  as  Tennyson,  or  Longfellow,  or  some  other 
poet  beautifully  but  mournfully  expresses  it: 

"  No  more,  no  more,  fine  cut  or  twisted  plug 
Shall  pouch  the  chewer's  lean  and  ugly  mug. 
No  more,  no  more,  the  circumgyral  smoke 
Shall  tuneful  Bigger's  mighty  wrath  provolce. 
No  more,  no  more,  the  ambrosial  reek  shall  flout 
A  Chouser's  pious  eyes  or  saintly  snout. 
No  more  shall  brave  and  burly  Belcher  sniff 
The  scent  of  hell  in  every  passing  whiff. 
No  more  the  mandrake  voice  of  fiuent  Bing 
Shall  round  and  round  St.  Martha's  chancel  ring, 
With  curses  dark  and  dire,  alike  invoked 
On  Cuba's  best  or  meanest  Dutch  that's  smoked. 
No  more  shall  guileless  Growley  grimly  feed 
His  sacred  ire  upon  the  slav'rous  weed  ; 
Or  waste  his  time,  or  spend  his  strength  and  wit 
In  damming  floods  of  vile  tobacco-spit." 

The  victors  stop  only  to  lift  the  hair  of  their  foes,  thus 
beautifully  tinting  the  amenities  of  civilized  warfare  with  the 
more  energetic  coloring  of  unsophisticated  life.  Then,  sol 
emnly  chanting  Yankee-Doodle,  and  bearing  proudly  aloft 
the  loaded  scalp-poles  devoted  to  the  adornment  and  decora 
tion  of  the  high  altar  of  Faneuil  Hall  and  the  lecture-room  of 
the  Cooper  Institute,  they  return  to  a  regenerate  and  happy 
community  where  everybody  has  the  glorious  privilege  of 
thinking  and  speaking,  and  eating  and  drinking,  just  as  he 
pleases,  provided  he  thinks,  speaks,  eats  and  drinks  precisely 
as  the  good  people,  who  know  everything  and  more  too,  shall 
decide  in  their  own  minds,  and  by  their  own  peculiar  intu 
itions  and  inspirations,  to  be  consistent  with  the  good  of  the 
world  and  the  will  of  God,  not  forgetting  the  immediate 
delectation  and  emphysematous  glorification  of  his  self-styled 
saints  and  prophets. 

But  enough — or,  as  the  reader  probably  thinks,  more 
than  enough — of  editorial  slangwhanging.  The  excuse,  how 
ever,  for  giving  these  specimens  of  Whoppers'  brutal  style,  is 
the  received  dictum  that  "  style  is  the  man,"  and  that  some 
times,  in  the  interests  of  character  drawing,  it  is  as  well  to 
quote  what  a  man  writes  as  what  he  says. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

The  Hudson — American  endings — The  distinguished  party  arrive  at  the 
Point — Helen's  meditations — Mrs.  Struggles  and  the  Count. 

THE  glories  of  the  Hudson  !  Yes,  the  Hudson  is  a  glori 
ous  river ;  but  is  there  any  use  of  our  making  such  an 
everlasting  brag  and  boast  about  it  as  we  do  ?  True,  we  have 
Anglo-Saxon  blood  in  our  veins  ;  and  everything  of  ours  is  of 
course  the  greatest,  the  finest,  the  best,  or  else  the  poorest, 
the  meanest,  the  smallest  the  world  can  show.  That  is  nat 
ural  and  comes  by  inheritance,  but  we  need  not  intensify  our 
brag  in  such  matters  as  natural  scenery  by  the  gaping,  gavvkey 
exaggerations  of  provincial  ignorance.  While  lauding  our 
Abanas  and  Pharphars,  we  should  not  forget  or  despise  the 
Jordans  of 'other  people.  The  Rhine  has  perhaps  justly  sunk 
somewhat  in  public  estimation,  but  no  American  ever  sailed 
down  through  the  hills  of  the  upper  Danube,  or  across  the 
broad  plains  of  Hungary,  perhaps  when  at  flood  the  mighty 
river  stretches  for  a  score  of  miles  on  either  side, — a  great 
lake  or  sea  dotted  with  hamlets  and  towns,  and  groves  of 
magnificent  trees,  and  little  islets  on  which  are  huddled  for 
refuge  vast  herds  of  cattle, — or  glided  on  the  rushing  waters 
along  the  rocks,  still  bearing  the  marks  of  the  road-way  of 
Trajan's  .egions,  and  so  on  through  the  frowning  Iron  Gates, 
but  must  ad' nit  that  even  in  rivers  we  are  not  so  far  ahead 
of  all  the  rest  of  the  world. 

The  question  of  mountains  is  still  more  easily  settled. 
Luckily  the  height  of  the  Himalayas  is  a  school-book  fact,  and 
for  anything  approximating  Mont  Blanc  we  have  to  go  two  or 
three  thousand  miles  away  to  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  the 


470  NEVER  AGAIN. 

Sierra  Nevada.  If  there  is  anything  that  an  American  ought 
to  be  profoundly  thankful  for,  it  is  that  the  Catskills  are  only 
good-sized  hills,  and  that  neither  the  Alleghanies  nor  the 
White  Mountains  have  a  peak  twenty  thousand  feet  high.  If 
they  had,  it  is  to  be  feared  that  there  would  roll  down  upon 
us  such  an  avalanche  of  brag  that  every  particle  of  sense, 
modesty,  and  taste  would  be  swamped  forever. 

Still  the  Hudson,  taken  moderately,  is  a  glorious  river, 
with  a  good  deal  of  very  fine  and  varied  scenery  in  its  course. 
The  geological  freak  of  the  Palisades  is  unquestionably  strik 
ing  ;  the  expansions  of  Tappan  Sea  and  Haverstraw  Bay  are, 
with  the  graceful  outlines  and  picturesque  fillings  in  of  the 
wooded  hills  sloping  down  with  more  or  less  abruptness  to  the 
town  and  villa-dotted  shore,  an  unquestionably  pleasing  and 
scenically  satisfactory  sight,  while  the  reach  of  the  Highlands, 
especially  if  approached  by  a  stranger  without  a  preliminary 
course  of  great  expectations,  is  really  superb — almost  grand 
— and  very  beautiful. 

The  Count  was  loud  in  his  expressions  of  delighted  admi 
ration  as  the  boat  bearing  Mrs.  Ledgeral's  party  entered  the 
strait  between  St.  Anthony's  Nose  and  Stony  Point.  He 
had  visited  the  Trossachs  ;  had  boated  on  Lake  Wallenstadt 
and  the  Bay  of  Uri ;  had  steamed  through  the  Iron  Gates  ; 
had  strolled  from  Trefoy  up  the  Stelvio  in  the  shadow  of  the 
great  Orteler  Spitz  ;  had  gazed  from  the  Corner  Grats,  at  the 
awful  range  of  Alpine  monsters  glittering  with  glaciers,  and 
had  studied  the  majesty  of  Mont  Blanc  with  his  attendant 
Aiguilles  from  the  heights  of  the  Brevant,  and  of  course  he 
did  not  make  the  mistake  of  applying  to  the  Highlands  of  the 
Hudson  any  of  the  common  tourist  epithets  of  grand,  majes 
tic,  sublime,  or  wonderful. 

Helen  sat  silent,  and  only  partly  listening  to  the  conversa 
tion  going  on  between  the  different  members  of  the  party, 
which  included,  besides  her  mother  and  the  Count,  the  two 
Miss  Honesdales,  who  were  going  up  to  the  Point  for  a  short 
run  around  among  the  cadets  and  officers,  under  the  guardian 
ship  of  Mrs.  Ledgeral,  who  had  accepted  the  responsibility, 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


471 


slight  as  it  was,  with  some  little  hesitation.  The  Honesdales 
had  the  reputation  of  being  the  most  amiable  girls  and  the 
most  loving  sisters  in  society,  and  Mrs.  Ledgeral  knew  that 
the  supervision  required  was  only  nominal — all  she  would 
have  to  do  would  be  to  let  them  take  care  of  themselves, 
and  go  and  come  as  it  pleased  them  ;  but  then  there  was  the 
Count  !  it  would  never  do  to  run  any  risk,  and  the  Misses 
Honesdale  were  such  nice  girls.  Everybody  said  so — that 
is  everybody  who  was  anybody.  They  were  tall,  good-look 
ing  ;  dressed  well,  danced  well ;  and  while  Lizzie,  the  eldest, 
was  musical,  and  had  been  finished  by  Mills  and  Albetus, 
Dolly,  the  youngest,  showed  the  neatest  ankle  at  croquet  of 
any  girl  in  the  avenue. 

A  bad  girl  to  take  into  the  country,  thought  Mrs.  Ledgeral 
as  she  recalled  the  Count's  often-expressed  admiration  of  the 
American  ladies'  small  feet.  But  she  comforted  herself  with 
the  reflection  that  Helen's  feet  and  ankles  were  equally  neat 
and  well  turned,  even  if  she  did  not  show  them  quite  so  freely. 
"  And  so  they  ought  to  be,"  muttered  the  fond  mother  as  she 
glanced  down  at  her  own  nicely  shod  extremities,  "if  she  is  a 
daughter  of  mine,"  and  then  she  thought  of  a  compliment  that, 
in  her  younger  days,  when  she  could  afford  bottines  of  the 
tightest,  she  had  received  almost  under  the  shadow  of  Melrose. 
Her  carriage  had  drawn  up  at  the  neighboring  inn.  The  little 
bustling  landlady  had  hurried  out  to  help  her  down,  and  the 
moment  Mrs.  Ledgeral  had  put  her  foot  upon  the  marche  pied 
exclaimed,  "You're  welcome  from  over  the  seas,  my  lady." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  I'm  from  over  the  seas  ? "  de 
manded  Mrs.  Ledgeral. 

"  Oh,  I  knew  it  the  moment  I  saw  your  'endings.'  We  get 
such  '  endings'  only  from  America,"  was  the  reply. 

Mrs.  Ledgeral  thought  of  her  daughter's  inherited  endings, 
and  decided  to  take  Dolly  Honesdale  to  West  Point. 

Mrs.  Struggles  was  also  of  the  party ;  she  had  not  been 
urged  to  go — hardly  even  invited.  But  Mrs.  Struggles  did  not 
need  to  be  urged.  She  had  the  happy  faculty,  necessary  to 
the  struggling  woman,  of  converting  the  slightest  intimations 


472  NEVER  AGAIN. 

or  suggestions  into  pressing  invitations  ;  and  so  she  was  of 
the  party  ;  and  not  the  least  delighted  member  of  it.  Not  that 
she  cared  anything  for  the  ordinary  commonplace  pleasures 
of  such  a  trip.  She  had  no  love  for  the  country,  no  eye  for 
natural  scenery,  no  particular  pleasure  in  fresh  air ;  but  then 
the  party  was  so  exclusive,  and  a  visit  to  West  Point,  in  the 
right  kind  of  company,  is  preeminently  the  proper  thing  ;  and 
then  she  would  have  such  stories  to  tell  when  she  got  back  of 
all  the  little  adventures  of  the  distinguished  party,  and  an  end 
less  quantity  of  sly,  but  seemingly  careless  allusions  as  to  what 
"  me  and  the  Count"  had  seen  and  done  when  "  we  was"  at 
West  Point  together.  She  felt  that  she  would  be  able  to  cap 
Mrs.  Insby's  anecdotes  of  the  Prince  and  the  Duke,  and  Lord 
this  and  Lord  that,  and  fairly  bluff  the  Hazencourts  off  the 
course  with  their  poor  German  Baron  and  their  miserable  un 
washed  Portuguese  Don. 

"  Oh  Count,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Struggles,  putting  the  usual 
American  question, "  do  you  think  this  as  fine  as  the  Rhine?  " 

"  Well,  Madam,"  he  said  hesitatingly,  "  the  two  rivers  are 
very  unlike.  This  is  as  beautiful,  but  the  Rhine  is  a  very  in 
teresting  river." 

"  Oh  yes  ;  you  mean  its  ruined  castles." 

"  Not  alone  its  castles,  but  its  romantic  traditions,  and  its 
historic  associations." 

"  Oh  yes ;  we  have  no  romantic  traditions  here,"  ex 
claimed  Miss  Honesdale. 

"  No,  nor  any  historic  associations,"  put  in  Dolly. 

Helen  roused  herself  from  her  revery,  and  turned  a  swift 
sharp  glance  at  the  last  speaker. 

"  You  don't  think  so,  Miss  Helen,"  smilingly  demanded 
the  Count. 

"  I  think  that  there  is  no  comparison  between  the  two  riv 
ers  in  that  respect,  but  our  Hudson  is  not  wholly  destitute  of 
romance,  and  certainly  not  of  historic  associations.  If  Rip 
Van  Winkle  and  Captain  Kidd  go  for  nothing,  look  around, 
and  every  hill  and  promontory  speaks  of  one  of  the  most  piti 
able  tragedies  in  history.  You  have  heard,  Count,  of  the 
story  of  Andre?" 


NEVER  AGAIN.  473 

"  I  remember  the  name,  but  the  story  dwells  not  strongly  on 
my  mind.  Won't  you  have  the  goodness  to  recite  it  to  me?  " 

Helen  rapidly  ran  over  the  chief  incidents  of  the  lamen 
table  tale,  and  the  Count  listened  with  an  expression  of  inter 
est  and  admiration  that  was  very  satisfactory  to  Mrs.  Ledgeral. 

"  Helen  is  as  good  as  a  book,"  whispered  Miss  Hones- 
dale  to  her  sister. 

"  As  stupid  as  a  book,"  returned  Dolly,  piqued  that  her 
chatter  had  failed  to  fix  the  Count's  attention. 

"  I  can  tell  you  what,"  returned  the  elder,  "  if  you  had  a 
little  more  of  that  kind  of  stupidity,  it  would  be  the  better  for 
you.  All  men  can't  gabble  about  nothing  forever,  and  some 
of  the  best  of  them  don't  dance." 

"  And  all  men  can't  listen  to  screechy  music  forever.  1 
guess  my  dancing  will  last  as  long  and  go  as  far  as  your 
singing." 

"  Hush,  didn't  you  promise  mother  not  to  squabble  ? " 

"  Well,  who  began  it  ? " 

"  Why,  you  did." 

"  No,  you  did." 

The  sudden  slowing  of  the  engine  preparatory  to  landing 
at  the  wharf  produced  a  general  hush  throughout  the  boat. 
The  engineer  in  handling  his  cut-off  had  cut  off  Helen's  story 
and  the  whispered  sparring  of  the  loving  sisters.  The  transi 
tion  from  the  plashings,  the  rumblings,  and  the  tremblings  of 
a  full  head  to  half  steam,  is  startling.  There  is  a  curious 
question,  and  one  that  has  no  doubt  often  occurred  to  the 
statistical  mind — How  many  tender  declarations  trembling  on 
the  tongue  have  been  indefinitely  postponed  by  the  sudden 
silence  of  shutting  off  steam — how  many  have  been  drowned 
forever  in  the  awful  whizzing  of  the  escape-pipe.  The  ques 
tion  commends  itself  to  the  consideration  of  Sorosis.  Per 
haps  the  evil  might  be  remedied  by  putting  the  cut-off  and 
starting-bar  into  the  softer  and  more  delicate  hands  of  petti- 
coated  engineers. 

The  boat  drew  up  at  the  dock,  and  rapidly  disembarked 
its  passengers,  who  as  rapidly  hurried  into  the  carriages  in 


474  NEVER  AGAIN. 

waiting,  and  were  drawn  up  the  steep  and  picturesque  road 
through  a  cut  in  the  rocks  almost  worthy  of  the  epithet 
"  g°r&e/'  t°  tne  small  rocky  plateau  on  which  stands  perched, 
like  an  old  baronial  castle,  on  ground  of  greatest  vantage,  the 
magnificent  hotel.  Magnificent,  not  perhaps  for  its  sixe — • 
there  are  many  summer  hotels  twice  as  large — but  magnifi 
cent  from  its  air  of  architectural  amplitude  ;  its  wide  sweep  of 
encircling  veranda,  and  above  all,  from  its  singularly  bold  and 
striking  position,  commanding  as  it  does  splendid  views  of 
the  river,  with  the  most  charming  and  picturesque  features  of 
the  surrounding  hills. 

Rooms  were  ready  for  the  party,  and  Mrs.  Ledgeral  and 
her  maid  were  soon  deep  in  the  mysteries  of  the  immense 
packing-cases,  that  invariably  constitute  the  impedimenta  of 
the  fashionable  Americaine.  It  is  said  that  the  nationality  of 
an  American  party  abroad  can  be  recognized  not  only  by  the 
shape  and  quality  of  their  trunks,  but  by  the  size.  Whoppers 
says  that  a  big  trunk  is  as  characteristic  of  a  Yankee  girl  as  it 
is  of  an  elephant. 

And  what  do  the  huge  things  contain  ?  No  man  knows, 
but  there  have  been  rumors  of  thirty,  forty,  fifty,  and  even  of 
eighty,  dresses,  for  a  single  short  summer  season  at  Saratoga 
and  Sharon.  Surely  "  Solomon  in  all  his  glory,  was  not 
arrayed  like  one  of  these." 

Luckily  West  Point  is  not  a  very  "  dressy"  place,  and, 
besides,  Mrs.  Ledgeral  had  too  much  sense  and  taste  to  affect 
to  make  a  blaze  of  gentility  to  the  world  by  dress.  She  knew 
that  generally  the  most  pretentious  specimens  of  "  flashing 
bravery,"  as  Ben  Jonson  phrases  it,  are  women  scarcely 
within,  or  who  are  just  without,  the  pale  of  the  selectest  set. 

She  knew  and  felt  her  independent  position.  She  had 
brought  only  a  dozen  dresses,  and  yet  she  contemplated  a 
month's  stay.  She  was  even  debating  whether  she  would 
change  her  dress  for  the  evening. 

"  Are  you  not  going  to  change  your  dress  ? "  she  demanded 
of  Helen. 

"  No,  mamma  ;  I  think  not." 


NEVER  AGAIN.  475 

"Well,  it's  hardly  worth  while.  There  is  nobody  here,  I 
suppose.  Still,  you  might  find  somebody  in  the  parlor  thii 
.evening.  Come,  hurry  ;  it  will  be  time  for  tea,  and  I  want  to 
get  down  and  see  the  head  waiter  about  our  places  before  the 
crowd  pour  in." 

"  Oh,  don't  wait  for  me,  mamma.  I  shan't  change  my 
dress.  I  am  not  going  into  the  parlor  this  evening.  I  shall 
stay  out  on  the  piazza,  the  weather  is  so  lovely,"  and  Helen 
slipped  out  of  the  room,  and  descending  the  stairs,  strolled 
out  into  the  broad  veranda  which,  running  round  the  sides 
and  end  of  the  house,  constitutes  in  its  extent  and  amplitude 
one  of  the  most  agreeable  and  characteristic  features  of  the 
hotel. 

The  sun  had  gone  down  behind  the  western  hills  ;  but  one 
golden  gleam  flashed  across  far  overhead  and  gilded  in  the 
east  the  tip  of  Sugarloaf,  leaving  the  slopes  of  the  valley  and 
the  intervening  river  in  the  soft  gray  and  amber  tints  of 
advancing  eve.  Helen  took  a  seat  in  a  deserted  corner  of  the 
piazza..  It  commanded  a  near  view  of  the  bluff  under  which 
Captain  Combings  had  anchored  his  sloop  the  night  of 
the  collision.  How  vividly  the  scene  came  up  to  her  mind, 
as  she  gazed  at  the  very  spot  where  perchance  the  remnant 
of  wreck  still  reposed  beneath  the  placid  water.  The  shouts 
of  alarm,  the  crash  of  timbers,  the  whizzing  of  steam,  the 
rattling  of  blocks  and  boat-falls  ! — the  huddling  crowds  rush 
ing  from  cabins  and  state-rooms  ! — the  fright,  the  confu 
sion,  and  then  the  rapid  return  of  calmness  and  confidence 
when  it  was  found  that  it  was  only  the  other  one  that  was  run 
down  and  destroyed.  And  then  Helen  saw  the  unshipped  crew 
clambering  up  the  guards  of  the  steamer,  but  luckily  for  her, 
as  the  Captain  and  his  mates  were  clad  only  in  their  scanty 
habillements  de  nuit,  she  had  no  eye  but  for  the  youth  who  had 
since  grown  to  occupy  so  much  of  her  attention. 

Why  had  it  all  happened  just  so,  when  it  might  so  easily 
have  been  different  ?  Was  it  that  she  was  no  better,  no  firmer, 
no  more  assured  against  the  little  trips  and  trickeries  of  fickle 
fortune  than  a  novel  heroine?  Grand  misfortunes  and  cus- 


476  NEVER  AGAIN. 

ternary  chances  and  calamities,  she  could  understand,  might 
lie  in  wait  in  her  life-path. 

But  here  was  a  thing,  that  the  slightest  turn  of  the  steer 
ing  wheel  could  have  prevented,  and  yet  something  had  come 
out  of  it  that  would  color  her  whole  life.  She  could  not  under 
stand  it.  And  did  she  regret  that  the  pilot  had  not  shifted 
a  spoke  or  two  in  time  ?  Well,  there  was  no  use  of  her  ask 
ing  herself  such  a  silly  question,  and  so  her  thoughts  wan 
dered  off  to  a  great  secret  that  her  father,  as  she  thought,  had 
confided  to  her.  She  could  not  say  to  herself  exactly  what  it 
was,  but  it  was  a  heavy  secret,  a  terrible  secret,  one  that  no 
one  else  must  ever  know.  One  thing  was  clear ;  her  father 
had  told  her  so ;  to  keep  the  world  from  knowing  this  terrible 
secret;  to  save  him  from  utter,  irredeemable  ruin  she  must 
marry  the  Count. 

"  Must  marry  him,"  sighed  Helen.  "  Marry  and  not  love 
him !  Marry  him  when  my  imagination  'carries  no  favor  in  it 
— but — Bertram's ! '  And  I  must  accept.  Must  accept !  why 
everybody  says  there  is  not  a  girl  in  the  city  who  would  not 
jump  with  joy  at  an  offer  from  him.  What  a  vulgar  phrase — 
jump  for  joy  ;  and  yet  is  it  half  as  vulgar  as  the  act?  Can  any 
words  equal  in  meanness  the  act  of  accepting  an  offer  of  mar 
riage  without  love  ? — Without  love  ! — and  Helen  smiled  a  little 
smile  as  she  thought  how  easily  any  or  all  of  the  girls  could 
make  themselves  fall  in  love  with  the  Count ;  and  why  not  ? '' 
Her  thoughts  ran  on  in  the  sense  of  Olivia's  answer  to  Viola  : 

"  I  suppose  him  virtuous,  know  him  noble,  of  great  estate  ; 
of  fresh  and  stainless  youth  ;  in  voices  well  divulged  ;  free, 
learned,  and  valiant,  and  in  demeanor  and  in  the  shape  of 
nati.re  a  gracious  person:  but  I  cannot  love  him." 

Helen  sighed  deeply,  and  leaned  over  the  heavy  balu 
trade — her  delicate  hands  scarce  feeling  the  roughness  of  th 
coarsely  sanded  wood-work. 

The  gloom  of  night  was  stealing  over  the  scene  ;  and 
stealing  over  her  heart  a  flood  of  gloomy  sentiment  which 
was  hardly  grief,  or  sorrow,  or  deep  affliction.  Sad,  melan 
choly,  triste — either  is  the  proper  word.  Apart  from  her 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


477 


father's  troubles  why  should  she  feel  any  great  distress  ?  If 
the  apparently  inevitable  had  presented  itself  in  the  shape  of 
an  old,  ugly,  disagreeable  man  without  money,  there  could  be 
no  doubt  about  the  answer.  But  the  truth  is  it  takes  a  cer 
tain  number  of  years,  and  a  certain  knowledge  of  the  world, 
before  a  young  girl  can  fully  understand  either  her  sentimen 
tal  rights  or  capacities.  Although  not  technically  "a  girl 
of  the  period,"  Helen  was  nevertheless  a  girl  of  modern 
society — her  nature  qualified  by  its  laws  and  its  rules — and 
with  a  loving  and  lovable  but  fortuneless  youth  on  the  one 
hand,  and  a  young,  rich,  noble  and  agreeable  suitor  on  the 
other,  she  could,  in  her  innocence  and  ignorance,  hardly  com 
prehend  the  terrible  strait  in  which  she  stood.  She  did 
not  know  that  she  had  either  the  right  or  the  power  to  feel  her 
self  as  desperately  set  upon  by  fate  as  any  Amanda  or  Be 
linda  in  the  most  doleful  pages  of  fiction. 

"  Die  ist  s/ion,"  said  the  Count,  and  he  placed  his  hand 
on  the  balustrade  and  leaned  over  by  Helen's  side.  Helen 
said  nothing. 

"  Beautiful !  it's  more  than  beautiful,  it  is  soul  filling  and 
heart  satisfying." 

Helen  made  no  reply. 

"  Don't  you  think  so,  Miss  Helen  ? — don't  you  think  that 
there  are  special  aspects  of  nature  that  sometimes  give  us  an 
almost  startling  sentiment  of  universal  harmony,  and  that 
serve  to  put  us  into  a  \vonderful  intimate  relation  with  the  di 
vine  essence  of  things  ? " 

"  I  think,"  saij  Helen  slowly  without  raising  her  head, 
"  that  the  perceptii,  of  harmony  depends  as  much  upon  our 
own  moods  as  upon  the  phases  of  nature.  In  some  states 
of  the  mind  we  are  awake  only  to  the  dissonances  of  life  and 
society,  and  then  it  is  pretty  hard  to  feel  the  harmonies  of 
nature  or  see  the  commonest  outlines  or  elements  of  beauty.' 

"  And  is  that  your  condition  of  mind  ?  " 

Helen  made  no  reply. 

"You  must  admit  that  objectively  this  scene  is  beautiful 
— very  beautiful,  and  full  of  a  deep  rich  sentiment  of  power 
and  repose." 


478  NEVER   AGAIN. 

"  Objectively !  yes,"  replied  Helen  in  a  somewhat  pas 
sionate  tone,  "but  subjectively"— 

"Well,  subjectively?"  demanded  the  Count. 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  exclaimed  Helen,  "  if  you  want  I  should 
use  your  big  scientific  words  ;  objectively  I  find  the  view 
fine  enough,  and  the  emotion  it  excites  or  ought  to  excite 
one  of  beauty;  but  subjectively  mixed  up  with  my  present 
feelings,  I  think  that  it  is  as  ugly  as  sin.  There  now,  you 
have  got  my  opinion." 

And  Helen  turned  again  and  looked  down  upon  the 
river;  and  she  half  held  her  breath  and  pressed  her  lips 
together  and  scowled  a  little  gentle  scowl,  so  provoked  was 
she  with  herself  for  letting  the  words  slip  off  her  tongue 
in  such  a  tone  of  passionate  petulance. 

The  Count  bent  his  head  down  gently  and  deferentially, 
and  turned  his  face  so  as  fully  to  confront  hers :  "  And  is 
it  so,  Miss  Helen  ?  Is  it  that  some  trouble  has  come  to  you  ? 
Is  it,  as  your  poet  Shakespeare  has  it,  that  to  your  bosom 
has  come  some  perilous  stuff  that  weighs  upon  the  heart  ? 
Oh,  I  have  thought  so.  I  have  felt  for  some  time  that 
something  has  happened.  I  have  been  in  this  country  but 
a  few  weeks,  yet  how  much  change.  I  found  you  a  mirthful 
girl,  and  now  you  are  a  mournful  woman.  I  won't  ask  why 
this  is — I  won't  ask  what  it  is,  but  I  should  so  much  like 
to  ask  one  question." 

"  Oh,  no  !  no  !  "  exclaimed  Helen,  "  don't  ask  me  any 
question,  not  just  now." 

"  I  should  so  much  like  to  know,"  persisted  the  Count, 
"  if  I  have  anything  to  do  with  your  trouble.  It  is  perhaps 
all  presumption  and  impertinence  on  my  part,  but  somehow 
it  seems  so." 

Helen's  memory  glanced  back  to  her  last  interview  with 
Luther,  when  he  had  asked  the  same  question  in  almost  the 
same  words.  It  was  absurd — it  was  provoking,  to  have  all  the 
men  putting  such  questions,  and  bothering  a  poor  girl  so  ! 

"  Am  I  disagreeable  to  you  ?  "  continued  the  Count ;  "  you 
don't  seem  to  say  so,  and  yet — and  yet — you  treat  me  so 


NEVER  AGAIN, 


479 


inconsistently :  politely,  kindly,  I  admit,  but  my  presence 
seems  lately  to  ever  make  you  sad  and  troubled.  Is  it  that 
you  hate  me  ?  that  I  give  you  pain  ?  I  will  take  myself  away 
from  the  city,  from  the  country,  and  I  shall  have  but  one 
regret — that  I  ever  came." 

Helen  knew  not  what  to  say.  She  felt  greatly  relieved 
at  finding  that  the  proposed  question  of  the  Count  was  not 
the  one  she  so  much  dreaded,  but  still  she  was  very  much 
embarrassed  for  an  answer  that  should  be  sufficiently  kindly 
and  yet  not  express  too  much — that  should  rebut  his  self- 
accusation,  and  yet  not  be  a  downright  fib. 

Helen  did  not  know  on  the  instant  what  to  say,  and 
so  instinctively  she  straightened  herself  up  and  gave  him  a 
look — a  bewildering  look, — one  of  those  looks  that  contain  all 
kinds  of  meaning  just  as  suits  a  man's  capacity. 

There  was  enough  of  the  twilight  left  for  the  Count  to 
study  that  look  for  the  space  of  half  a  second. 

The  French  sometimes  say  of  a  woman — elle  a  coutume  de 
regarder  les  homines  dans  le  blanc  des  ycux — and  it  is  some 
times  said  somewhat  disparagingly,  as  indicating  a  bold,  hard 
look.  But  it  may  be  purely  a  bewildering  look,  or  a  fasci 
nating  look.  It  may  be  used  furtively — a  swift,  sharp  stroke, 
like  a  blow  with  a  stiletto ;  or  it  may  be  laid  on  calmly  and 
steadily  like  a  sluice-pipe  on  a  California  gold-hill,  melting 
away  in  its  steady  flood  everything  earthy  and  stony  in  the 
maleformation.  In  either  case  it's  a  wonderfully  effective  social 
weapon,  and  many  of  the  queens  of  society  have  been  indebted 
to  it  for  their  victims. 

Take  Mrs.  Wallace  Benton,  for  instance :  a  dozen  men 
more  or  less  clever  are  gathered  about  her — old  men  and 
young  men — business  men  and  society  men — unsophisticated 
men  and  blase  fogies  of  forty  seasons.  What  keeps  the  ani 
mated,  excited  group  around  her,  while  belles  of  infinite  pre 
tension  revolve  the  tedious  order  of  society  chit-chat  with  per 
haps  a  single  solitary  satellite,  and  he  dying  to  burst  his  orbit 
and  dash  off  into  the  regions  of  infinite  chicken  salad  and 
Champagne  ?  Is  it  her  wit,  her  vivacity,  her  quick  apprecia- 


480  NEVER    AGAIN. 

tion  of  the  humorous,  her  flattering  sallies  and  brilliant  repar 
tees?  or  the  tact  with  which  she  stimulates,  yet  controls  with 
in  due  bounds  the  intellectual  struggles  of  her  arena?  Not 
so,  although  these  all  serve.  The  truth  is,  that  each  fellow  in 
turn  gets  the  regard,  dircctiment  dans  le  blanc  des  yeux,  and  it 
goes  to  his  very  vitals.  Each  thinks  that  he  alone  has  it,  and 
it  doubles  him  up  like  a  gladiator  under  the  "  habet"  of  the 
amphitheatre.  Mentally  he  falls  at  her  feet  exclaiming — 
while  his  self-love  is  oozing  out  at  every  stab,  and  the  sweat 
of  tickled  vanity  moistens  and  softens  the  hard  lines  of  brow 
and  lip, — O  empress,  dying  I  salute  thee. 

Helen  gave  the  Count  this  kind  of  a  look,  but  a  look  can 
not  be  properly  too  long  indulged  in.  To  be  effective  it  must 
be  more  or  less  fleeting.  The  regard  may  be  pushed  into  a 
stare,  or  it  may  be  prolonged  into  a  leer.  Sooner  or  later  it  is 
necessary  to  say  something,  and  Helen  was  beginning  to  feel 
the  want  of  words  when  her  embarrassment  was  happily 
relieved  by  the  strident  voice  of  Mrs.  Struggles. 

"  Oh,  Helen  !  your  mother  sends  me  after  you.  She  wants 
you  to  come  in  ;  it  is  time  to  go  in  to  tea." 

Helen  grasped  quite  joyfully  at  the  proffered  relief. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Struggles.  I  am  sorry  you  should 
have  had  the  trouble  of  coming  for  me.  I  had  quite  forgotten 
how  late  it  is ;  this  scene  is  so  beautiful,  and  the  twilight  lasts 
so  long  now, — see,  it  has  not  gone  yet.  Count,  you  are  a  great 
admirer  of  Wordsworth.  Do  you  recollect  his  address  to 
twilight?  It  might  have  been  occasioned,  one  would  think,  by 
a  scene  like  this.  It  begins — 

'  Hail  twilight !  sovereign  of  one  peaceful  hour, 

Not  dullard  thou  as  undiscerning  night, 

But  studious  only  to  remove  from  sight 

Day's  mutable  distinctions ' — 

But  I  won't  keep  you,  Mrs.  Struggles.  I  know  both  you  and 
mamma  are  tired,  and  want  your  tea.  Allans  done"  and 
Helen  slipped  round  on  the  other  side  of  the  lady  as  the 
Count  extended  his  arm,  leaving  Mrs.  Struggles  to  grasp  the 
proffered  support 


NEVER  AGAIN.  481 

Mrs.  Struggles  had  seldom  before  had  an  opportunity  of 
putting  her  hand  on  the  arm  of  a  count,  and  the  touch  electri 
fied  her.  It  lifted  her  on  to  her  toes,  and  made  her  at  least 
two  inches  taller.  It  swelled  the  fine  proportions  of  her  bust, 
craned  her  neck  with  a  graceful  curve,  and  stuck  her  pannier 
out  far  in  advance,  or  rather  in  arrear  of  the  sternest  demands 
of  fashion. 

As  she  minced  her  way  through  the  drawing-room  across 
the  marble  hall,  and  down  the  sweep  of  the  dining-room  in  the 
wake  of  Miss  Ledgeral  and  the  Honesdales  she  held  her  face 
upturned  full  into  the  light  of  the  Count's  countenance, 
appearing  to  be  wholly  absorbed  in  an  animated  discussion; 
of  which  the  virtues  of  the  imperial  Russian  overland  tea  com 
pared  with  the  vulgar  sea-brought  product  of  China  and 
Japan  seemed  to  be  the  chief  staple.  "Oh,  I  am  sure,  Count, 
it  must  be  much  finer.  The  Emperor  orders  it  all  himself, 
you  know,  Count.  An  imperial  ukase,  I  believe  they  call  it ; 
and  they  bring  it  all  to  him  in  a  caravan,  and  he  gives  it 
round  to  the  different  courts.  He  must  have  sent  it  to  your 
court  in  Berlin — have  you  never  tasted  it?  You  have?  Oh 
charming !  and  the  Princess  Royal, — how  does  she  like  it  ? 
she  can't  prefer  that  horrid  English  breakfast-tea."  And 
then  Mrs.  Struggles  wandered,  or  rather  wondered  off  with  a 
dozen  questions  about  the  Princess,  as  to  her  age,  tastes, 
looks,  etc.,  and  no  explanations  of  the  Count  could  make  her 
exactly  understand  how  a  Princess  Royal  could  get  along  in 
years,  and  how  she  could  grow  really  stout,  or  how  it  was 
that  her  mother,  Queen  Victoria,  or  her  father-in-law,  King 
William,  or  her  husband,  the  Prince,  could  allow  her  to  like 
any  tea  in  preference  to  that  which  comes  directly  from  the 
Czar's  own  hands. 

Mrs.  Struggles  appeared,  as  we  have  said,  to  be  wholly  ab 
sorbed  in  this  voluble  chat,  but  more  than  one  acute  eye 
noticed  the  furtive  but  wide-sweeping  glance  with  which  she 
made  sure  Mr.  and  Miss  Somebody  were  awake  to  the  fact 
that  the  Count  was  taking  her  down  to  tea,  and  that  all  the 
nobodies  present  were  getting  a  realizing  sense  of  a  state  of 
31 


482  NEVER  AGAIN. 

beatitude  beyond  their  sphere.  Poor  Mrs.  Struggles  !  let  us 
laugh  at  you  just  a  little  bit — you  can  very  well  stand  it.  You 
are  the  type  of  a  very  large  class  ;  and  ridicule,  even  the 
coarsest  and  strongest,  becomes  the  feeblest  badinage  when 
frittered  up  among  so  many.  Besides,  you  are  having  all 
that  you  want  in  this  life  ;  you  are  getting  on  in  fashionable 
society  ;  you  see  your  way  to  the  highest  heaven  of  bon  ton. 
Let  the  world  wag  its  tongue,  then  !  Let  the  poor  devils  sneer ! 
Only,  my  dear  Mrs.  Struggles,  if  you  could  modify  or  conceal 
some  of  the  little  infirmities  of  our  common  nature, — if  you 
could  suppress  upon  all  occasions — as  you  so  well  know  how 
to  do  on  some — your  pride  and  arrogance  and  envy  and 
malice,  and  all  the  various  modes  and  manners  of  unchari- 
tableness  ;  if  you  could  permit  yourself  a  glimpse  of  the  fact 
that  there  is  in  the  world — in  society — yes,  even  in  fashion 
able  society,  something  worth  thinking  about  besides  dress 
and  visiting  and  gossip  ;  if  you  could  realize  for  a  moment 
that  there  are  a  great  many  worthy  and  respectable  people 
who  really  don't  consider  that  posturing  and  kotowing  before 
the  Great  Pam-bam-sham  is  the  end-all  and  be-all  of  exist 
ence  ;  if  you  could  I  say — but  then  you  can't,  what  is  the  use 
of  talking  about  it  ?  If  you  could,  however,  don't  you  think 
that  it  would  be  an  improvement  ?  We  should  still  sneer,  to  be 
sure,  but  then  our  sneers  would  of  course  be  the  sneers  of  pure 
envy  and  jealousy,  and  not  so  largely  qualified  by  contempt. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Amateur  Detectives — Our  Foreign  Immigration — Roset,  Restaurateur — A 
Game  of  Billiards — The  Conspirators. 

IT  was  a  little  past  noon,  on  the  same  day, that  Captain 
Combings  had  announced  by  his  presence  the  arrival  of 
the  Spoondrift,  that  the  passers  in  Broadway  might  have  noticed 
two. men — one  young,  the  other  of  middle  age — who,  crossing 
the  park  diagonally,  emerged  from  its  north-western  angle,  and 
entering  the  great  thoroughfare,  directed  their  course,  "  up 
town." 

They  paused  for  a  moment  to  look  at  the  new  Court 
House,  then  in  the  course  of  construction. 

"That  is  going  to  be  a  fine  building;  quite  an  ornament 
to  a  city  that  can't  brag  of  much  in  the  way  of  architecture," 
observed  the  elder. 

"  It's  going  to  be  a  monument  of  infinite  infamy  and  shame," 
replied  the  younger. 

"  How  so  ?  " 

"  Why  it's  going  to  be,  so  everybody  thinks,  the  biggest 
swindle  the  world  has  ever  known.  Do  you  know,  our  friend 
over  there  has  calculated  what  it  would  have  cost  to  build 
St.  Peter's  or  Versailles  on  the  same  plan.  He  says  that  neither 
could  have  been  finished  for  a  cent  less  than  five  hundred 
thousand  millions." 

We  have  said  that  the  passers  on  Broadway  might  have 
noticed  the  speakers  ;  but  probably  not  one  person  did  notice 
them,  as  there  was  nothing  about  them  to  attract  attention  ; 
unless  it  might  be,  in  both,  good  stalwart  figures,  proportioned 
to  their  ages ;  and  in  the  younger  man  a  rather  striking  and 
handsome  face. 


484  NEVER  AGAIN. 

And  this  face,  perhaps,  might  have  been  noticed  by  a  close 
observer,  not  because  it  was  handsome,  but  because  it  con 
tributed  to  a  noticeable  inconsistency.  It  was  too  smooth,  too 
delicate,  and  too  refined  for  the  old  battered  tarpaulin  th:;; 
shaded  it ;  and  for  the  frayed,  dingy  black  silk  handkerchief 
that  scarcely  concealed  the  whiteness  of  the  throat,  round 
which  it  was  carelessly  knotted;  and  for  the  coarse  and  worn 
pea-jacket,  and  the  faded  blue  checked  shirt,  with  its  baggy 
bosom  stuffed  with  an  old  red  bandanna. 

The  elder  man  had  much  less  of  the  sailor  cut  in  his 
garb.  Any  one  acquainted  only  with  the  sailor  of  the  stage 
and  the  novel,  might  have  doubted  whether  he  had  seen  blue 
water.  The  only  indications  of  it  in  his  dress  were  in  the 
knot  of  his  black  necktie,  and  the  large  bows  of  ribbon  that 
decorated  his  shoes,  and  in  a  fine  and  easy  roll  in  his  gait. 
Otherwise,  a  broad-brimmed  Panama  hat,  and  a  long-skirted 
frock-coat,  might  as  well  have  girded  a  city  missionary,  or  a 
tailor  on  a  spree. 

The  young  man  put  his  hand  into  his  bosom,  and  adjusted 
his  red  bandanna  so  as  to  expose  a  little  more  of  it  to  view. 

It  was  faded,  stained,  and  full  of  holes,  but  its  owner 
seemed  to  regard  it  with  looks  of  pride  and  affection. 

It  was  the  gift  of  a  friend.  "  Take  it,"  said  this  friend  ; 
"  It  will  be  the  salt-sea  sprayiest  thing  about  you — it  speaks 
through  every  hole  of  the  briny.  It  is  a  long  time  since  it  left 
its  home  in  Barcelona.  It  has  been  blown  about  the  world  on 
a  thousand  breezes,  and  a  thousand  sneezes.  See  !  it  is  as 
holy  as  the  Santo  Volto  of  St.  Veronica.  Come  now,  none  of 
your  No,  no's.  Put  your  other  nose  into  this  handkerchief. 
It  knows  more  than  you  think  for.  It  is  a  learned  handker 
chief.  If  you  knew  as  much  as  it  knows,  you  wouldn't  turn 
up  your  nose  at  it. 

Oh!  the  acuteness  of  an  intellect  trained  upon  the  con 
structive  milk  of  our  many  modern  mothers  of  fiction.  The 
most  complicated  plot  yields  up  its  mystery  at  a  glance.  A 
mental  equation,  and  the  most  recondite  of  an  author's  inven 
tions  flashes  out  from  the  regions  of  the  unknown.  A  man 


NEVER  AGAIN.  485 

must  be  either  a  donkey  or  a  Wilkie  Collins,  to  think  of 
dressing  an  incident,  or  masking  a  character,  much  less  con 
structing  a  plot  transcending  the  guessing  power  of  the  novel- 
reader,  who,  as  in  this  case,  instantly  touches  the  clue,  and 
exclaims  "  Whoppers  !  " 

Yes,  it  was  Mr.  Whoppers  who  had  been  assisting  at  the 
toilet  of  Luther  and  the  Captain,  and  aiding  and  advising 
them  as  to  their  make-up  with  all  the  authority  derived  from 
an  extensive  experience,  acquired  when  a  member  of  an  ama 
teur  Thespian  club  in  Division  Street. 

"  Now  Luther,"  exclaimed  the  Captain,  "just  look  here  a 
minute  before  we  get  fairly  to  work.  I  don't  think  that  Mr. 
Whoppers  fully  understands  the  subject.  He  points  well,  but 
he  sags  off  to  leeward  terribly  sometimes.  For  just  see, — who 
are  we,  and  where  bound  ?  We  pretend  to  be  runaway  sailors, 
and  we  are  up  in  this  quarter  of  the  city  to  escape  observation. 
We  are  disguised  sailors,  and  it  would  be  absurd  to  flaunt  our 
bunting  like  one  of  those  stage  fellows.  Don't  you  see  we  are 
supposed  to  be  lying  to  with  all  our  top  hamper  sent  down 
so  as  to  give  the  enemy  the  go-by,  and  yet  Mr.  Whoppers 
wants  to  rig  you  up  like  Jack  on  a  spree,  with  his  pocket  full 
of  bank-notes,  and  sailing  around  Greenwich  or  Cherry  streets 
and  splicing  the  main  brace  about  every  fifteen  minutes.  Mr. 
Whoppers'  only  idea  of  a  sailor  is  one  of  your  shiver-my-tim- 
bers  and  damn-my  tarry-top-lights  sort  of  fellows.  He  has 
made  you  mount  that  tarpaulin.  I  don't' like  it.  I  think  we 
had  better  find  a  second-hand  hat  store,  and  change  it  for 
such  a  cap  as  a  runaway  sailor  would  be  likely  to  buy  for  a 
disguise  ;  something  that  would  suit  a  Bowery  boy  or  a  butch 
er's  apprentice.  And  that  baggy  bosom  and  red  handker 
chief, — I  don't  like  that  either.  You  had  better  button  up 
your  jacket,  and  make  believe  you  want  to  conceal  all  the 
marks  of  a  seaman.  No  one  seeing  you  now  would  think  you 
had  any  such  design.  You  will  be  taken  at  once  for  a  bold 
sailor-boy,  and  all  will  wonder  what  you  are  up  in  this  part  of 
the  town  for.  You  won't  make  a  man  believe  that  you  are 
skulking  about  here  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  the  police 


486  NEVER  AGAIN, 

sharks.  Some,  perhaps,  will  see  that  you  are  only  acting  sail 
or,  for  there  is  a  whiff  of  the  land  breeze  about  you,  hitch  up 
your  trowsers,  and  roll  about  as  much  as  you  please ;  and 
others  will  believe  that  you  are  a  jolly  one  on  a  lark,  and  they 
will  watch  you,  expecting  to  see  you  about  every  five  minutes 
pull  out  that  old  handkerchief,  flourish  it  over  your  head,  cut 
a  pigeon  wing,  and  sing — 

'  Oh,  I  loved  a  gal,  and  her  name  was  Hannah  ; 

Rouse  her  in  !     Rouse  her  in  ! 
And  she  played  me  a  tune  on  her  planner ; 

Rouse  her  in  !     Rouse  her  in  ! 
Oh,  I  made  her  a  present  of  a  red  bandanner ; 
Rouse  her  in  !     Rouse  her  in ! ' 

I'll  tel.  you  what,  Luther,  the  folks  we  are  going  among  are 
wide  awake  I  guess.  It  won't  do  to  let  them  get  their  smell 
ers  on  us.  If  they  do,  they'll  scent  a  rat  as  sure  as  you're 
alive.  I  didn't  want  to  argue  the  matter  with  Mr.  Whoppers. 
'Taint  no  use  to  argue  with  an  editor,  and  in  his  own  sanctum 
too; — you  always  get  the  worst  of  it.  You  might  as  well 
argue  with  a  female  missionary,  or  a  preacher  in  his  pulpit,  or 
a  skipper  on  his  own  quarter-deck.  I  thought  we'd  just 
quietly  make  our  alterations  as  we  go  along  up  town." 

The  suggestions  of  the  Captain  were  so  unquestionably 
judicious,  that  Luther  had  no  objections  to  make,  and  a  few 
blocks  down  Canal  Street,  they  were  able  to  replace  Luther's 
tarpaulin  with  a  cap  that  better  consorted  with  the  idea  of  a 
sailor  in  disguise.  It  had  a  broad  brim  that  could  be  pulled 
well  down  over  the  eyes.  The  other  changes  of  costume  were 
easily  made,  even  to  the  substitution  of  a  pair  of  corduroy 
pantaloons  for  the  white  duck  trowsers,  which  last  Mr.  Whop 
pers  had  especially  ordered  from  a  slop-shop,  and  which  he 
had  insisted  upon  Luther's  getting  into. 

The  shop,  narrow,  dark,  and  dirty,  seemed  to  be  a  recep 
tacle  for  every  kind  of  half-worn  remnants  of  defunct  or  bank 
rupt  humanity.  Hats,  coats,  and  pantaloons,  new  and  second 
hand,  a  quantity  of  women's  gear,  a  show-case  of  an  infinite 
variety  of  fancy  trinkets,  tcys,  weapons,  and  musical  instru- 


NEVER  AGAIN.  487 

ments,  piles  of  rickety  furniture,  and  rolls  of  worn  and  torn 
matting,  and  carpeting,  and  oil  cloth — all  suggested  a  pawn 
broker's  shop,  but  the  idea  was  negatived  by  the  utter  want  of 
neatness  and  order,  and  by  the  absence  of  the  Lombard  arms 
over  the  door.  It  was  evidently  one  of  those  unlicensed  and 
illegal  loan  offices,  which  to  the  disgrace  of  municipal  govern 
ment  abound. 

The  keeper  of  this  den  was  a  burly  fellow,  with  no  very 
striking  characteristics.  In  any  other  place  one  would 
hardly  have  known  for  what  to  have  taken  him.  A  certain 
vulgar  bonhomie  he  evidently  had  by  nature,  but  his  ac 
quired  manner  was  as  clearly  a  compound  of  servility  and 
brutality,  in  what  the  physicists  call  a  condition  of  unstable 
equilibrium.  Behind  his  counter  he  looked  eminently  fitted 
to  his  position,  but  in  Wall  Street  his  mien  and  presence 
might  have  been  perhaps  considered  equally  appropriate. 
In  that  lovely  street  he  would  have  been  taken,  or  perhaps 
mistaken,  for  a  gold  speculator,  or  the  latest  and  most  as 
tounding  development  of  a  railroad  director. 

This  fellow,  as  he  handed  the  Captain  his  change,  made 
him  a  comical  grimace,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  I  know  what 
you  are  and  what  you're  after."  The  Captain  returned  it 
by  a  regular  east-north-east  wink. 

"You  haven't  seen  nothing  of  a  couple  of  sailors,  an  old 
one  and  a  young  one,  about  here  have  you  ?  "  demanded 
the  Captain. 

"  Not  a  sight,"  replied  the  shopman,  his  leer  running  into 
a  broad  grin.  "  The  only  thing  I  seed  is  a  couple  of  very 
nice  gentlemen,  in  long  togs — city  missionaries,  I  guess,  or 
travelling  dry-good  drummers  ;  and  I  think  I  ought  to  knovi 
a  sailor  when  I  sees  him.  •  I've  been  before  the  mast  one 
voyage  myself." 

"  Well,  then,  if  the  perlice  should  be  inquiring  round." 

"  Oh,  mum  is  the  word.  I  ain't  such  a  fou-fou  as  to  stand 
round  all  day,  with  my  mouth  wide  open,  and  my  tongue  a 
wagging  like  a  terrier's  tail.  But  I  say,  I  hope  the  ship 
has  got  a  good  offing,  by  this  time." 


488  NEVER    AGAIN. 

"  Well,  the  wind  is  fair,  and  she  was  short  apeak,  \viih 
the  tug  alongside,  all  day  yesterday ;  but  I  guess  it's  best  to 
run  a  little  further  up  town,  and  heave  to  in  some  of  the  by 
streets.  Wooster  Street  is  a  good  holding  ground  ain't  it  ?  " 

"  First-rate.  It  is  full  of  foreign  holes,  where  no  one 
would  think  of  looking  for  a  Yankee." 

"Oh,  we  are  not  Yankees,  we  are  Swedes,"  said  the 
Captain. 

"  Oh  ho.  I  see,"  and  the  speaker  winked  his  eye,  and 
jerked  his  thumb  over  his  left  shoulder!  "I  see;  you're 
Swedes.  Can't  speak  a  word  of  English,  eh  I " 

"  Oh,  no,  not  so  bad  as  that,"  returned  the  Captain  ;  "  we 
can  muster  English  enough  to  say,  How  are  you  ship-mate  ? 
won't  you  go  round  into  some  quiet  place,  in  Wooster  Street, 
and  set  up  your  backstays  a  little  ? " 

"  Well,  that's  good  English  !  No  parla  voo,  about  that. 
And  seeing  it's  you,  I  don't  care  if  I  do,  as  the  poet  says. 
Here,  Jem,  look  out  for  the  shop.  I  am  going  out  on  business 
with  these  gentlemen.  I  shall  be  back  in  an  hour." 

Luther  looked  inquiringly  at  the  Captain.  "  He  is  a  bloat, 
and  a  blab,"  whispered  the  latter ;  "  but  he's  not  bad  com 
pany  for  us  just  now,  and  if  we  can  get  him  up  as  far  as  Spring 
Street,  he'll  give  us  a  first-rate  introduction  to  your  saloon. 
He  can  tell  our  story  for  us  better  than  we  can.  He'll  let  the 
saloon-keeper  know  in  five  minutes  that  we  are  runaway 
sailors,  and  Swedes." 

"  Well,  come  along,  my  hearties.  I  don't  know  your 
names,  but  you  may  call  me  Cooner — that's  my  name,  Bill 
Cooner,  and  your  name,  is  Bill  too?  Oh.  Jack,  ha?  Well, 
of  course  it's  Jack,  and  the  youngster's  name  is  Jem  ?  " 

"  My  name  is  Luther." 

"Oh,  Luth!  Well  I'll  be  hanged  if  ever  I  heard  that 
name  before  for  a  sailor.  But  it  will  do  for  a  land-lubber's 
hailing  handle,  eh  ? "  and  with  a  knowing  leer,  and  his  hat 
cocked  over  his  left  eye,  in  true  b'hoy  style,  the  speaker  led 
the  way  around  the  corner  into  Wooster  Street. 

There  is  perhaps  nothing  that  strikes  with  such  force  the 


NEVER  AGAIN.  489 

eye  of  an  old  New  Yorker,  especially  upon  his  return  to  his 
native  city,  after  an  absence  of  several  years,  as  the  astonish 
ing  change  of  names  upon  the  signs  adorning  the  shops  and 
si  loons.  He  finds  that  Smith  and  Jones,  and  Green  and 
Brown  and  Black,  and  all  the  other  good  old  names  of 
Anglo-Saxon,  and  even  Celtic  origin,  have  been  swept  away ; 
and  in  their  place  the  names  of  Schmidt  and  Schwartz  and 
Grunz,  and  others  of  the  purest  Teutonic  sound.  He  hears 
of  the  vast  immigration  pouring  on  to  our  shores  from  the 
teeming  hives  of  faderland  ;  but  he  pays  little  attention  to 
newspaper  statistics  perhaps,  and  only  wakes  up  to  the  great 
fact  when  he  reads  it  in  the  big  painted  or  gilded  letters  that 
salute  his  wondering  eyes  at  every  turn.  Suddenly  he 
becomes  aware  that  we  are  rapidly  becoming  very  much  Ger 
manized.  He  is  a  little  startled  at  first,  but  in  view  of  the 
enormous  Celtic  element  he  cannot  find  it  in  his  heart  to 
regret  that  the  neutralizing  influence  of  the  German  immigra 
tion  is  so  powerful. 

May  it  not,  however,  become  too  powerful  ?  Hardly  ;  the 
Anglo-Saxon  stock  has  an  immense  vitality  ;  it  has  a  wonder 
ful  power  of  absorption  and  assimilation,  and  luckily  it  had 
taken  full  possession  of  the  country,  and  brought  over  its  lan 
guage  and  literature,  and  overrun  and  subdued  al'l  things  to 
itself  years  before  the  tide  of  immigration  swelled  to  anything 
like  its  present  proportions ;  and  besides,  the  character  of 
the  immigration  is  growing  more  and  more  heterogeneous. 
There  is,  perhaps,  a  threatened  proportionate  decrease  in  the 
number  of  Irish  immigrants,  but  the  flow  of  other  nationali 
ties  is  rapidly  increasing.  The  Scandinavian  element  is 
afloat,  vigorous  and  daring  as  when  under  their  Vikings  they 
colonized  the  shores  of  Kent,  or  visited  the  far-off  coasts  of 
Vineland.  There  is  an  increasing  immigration  from  England 
itself,  and  the  current  once  fully  established,  and  the 
stolid  masses  awakened  to  the  allurements  of  cheap  land  and 
high  wages,  and  yielding  to  the  attraction  of  affinities  of  blood 
and  language,  will,  in  time,  crowd  the  North  Atlantic  with 
ships.  The  steady  influx  of  Hungarians,  and  Poles,  and  Ital- 


490  NEVER  AGAIN. 

ians,  and  French,  shows  a  tendency  to  increase  in  volume. 
All  these  separate  nationalities  have  no  choice  but  to  crystal 
lize  in  time  upon  the  solid  nucleus  of  English  language,  litera 
ture  and  law. 

This  gratifying  heterogeneity  of  our  immigration  is  nowhere 
better  seen  than  in  a  stroll  up  and  down  the  first  three  or  four 
streets  bisected  by  Bleecker  St.,  and  it  was  with  somewhat 
such  speculations  as  the  reader  has  been  stopped  to  indulge 
in,  that  Luther,  following  his  companions,  read  the  signs  of 
jumbled-up  nationalities. 

They  had  passed  two  or  three  groggeries,  but  the  Captain 
had  objected  to  each,  and  had  persisted  in  his  course  up  the 
street. 

"  You  did  not  like  that  cellar  because  it  was  too  pokey," 
exclaimed  Mr.  Cooner,  "and  you  don't  like  this  gin  shop 
because  it's  too  public.  Where  the  devil  will  you  go?  You'll 
dive  into  this  lager  beer  saloon?  Well,  I'll  be  d — d  if  I  will. 
I  hate  lager.  You've  got  to  drink  so  much  of  it  before  it  does 
you  any  good.  But  I'll  tell  you  what,  there's  a  place  just 
above  here  where  the  fellow  has  got  some  old  Bourbon.  I 
tried  if  one  night  as  I  was  coming  along  here.  I  just  dropped 
down  into  a  rum-looking  hole  as  ever  you  laid  eyes  on  ;  such 
an  infernar  jabber  of  French  and  Dutch  you  never  heard,  and 
they  were  all  drinking  sour  wine,  and  lager,  and  such  stuff. 
Hollo,  covey,  says  I,  have  you  got  any  old  rye  ?  I'll  be  shot 
if  the  fellow  knew  what  I  meant.  Have  you  got  any  Bourbon  ? 
said  I.  Do  you  know  what  that  means  Oh,  oui,  oui,  said 
he,  ze  Frenchmens  knows  ze  Bourbon.  'Ha  !  ha  !  and  I  swear 
the  fellow  rumaged  around  and  found  a  bottle  of  real  '  blue 
grass.'  I  have  never  been  there  since.  What  do  you  say, 
shall  we  go  there  and  try  it  ? " 

"  How  far  up?"  demanded  the  Captain. 

"  Oh,  only  a  block  or  two  now.  You  can't  see  it  till  you 
stand  right  over  it  almost,  and  then  you  dive  right  down  a 
cellar  steps  as  straight  and  cramped  as  a  ladder  to  a  for'k'sel. 
It  must  be  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood  of  Bleecker." 

The  Captain  and   Luther  exchanged   looks.     The  fellow 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


491 


was,  perhaps,  leading  them  to  the  very  den  they  wanted  to 
explore. 

"Well,  heave  ahead,"  replied  the  Captain.  "We'll  just 
keep  our  lead  agoing ;  Luther,  you  give  a  look  astern  once  in 
a  while  and  see  that  we  don't  overrun  it." 

"I've  got  it,"  ejaculated  Mr.  Cooner,  after  they  had 
pushed  on  for  a  few  steps.  "I  think  that  must  be  it,  just 
over  there.  Do  you  see  those  two  billiard-cues  painted  red 
on  the  water-table  just  level  with  the  curb-stone  ?  Amudce 
Roset — Restaurateur  Fran£ais — Lager-bier  and  wein  saloon — 
Vins  Franyais,  Mittag  something  or  other,  Saile  de  billiard. 
That  must  be  the  place ;  come,  we'll  try  it  anyway." 

"  That's  our  place,"  whispered  Luther,  as  they  crossed  the 
street.  "  I  feel  quite  certain  of  it." 

The  Captain  gave  a  sweeping  look  around,  and,  with  the 
swift  conclusiveness  of  a  sailor's  glance,  took  in  every  object 
in  view. 

"  I  hope  so,"  he  replied  in  a  low  voice.  "  It  is  nicely 
situated.  If  we  can  spot  our  men  down  in  that  hole,  we  can 
slip  out  and  watch  them  from  Michael  O'Reilley's  corner 
yonder.  Do  you  see  his  side-window  commands  this  en 
trance  ? 

Mr.  Cooner  led  the  way  ;  Luther  and  the  Captain  fol 
lowed,  and  found  themselves  in  a  small  room  almost  wholly 
below  ground,  furnished  only  with  three  or  four  tables  and  a 
corresponding  number  of  chairs.  Across  the  back  of  the 
rear  ran  a  bar  of  black  walnut,  but  destitute  of  all  attempts  at 
ornamentation,  such  as  usually  characterize  the  Amen'can 
institution.  No  glitter  of  cut  glass  and  plated  ware.  A 
general  jumble  of  black  bottles,  evidently  more  for  use  than 
show,  and  arranged  on  shelves  without  any  regard  to  artistic 
effect,  occupied  the  background,  with  the  exception  of  a  space 
allotted  to  a  large  square  mirror  whose  reflective  power  had 
been  very  much  modified  by  the  work  of  some  clever  artist  in 
soap.  Numerous  designs,  and  among  them  the  JE  Pluribus 
Unum  bearing  bird  of  freedom,  executed  in  that  unctuous 
material,  gave  the  surface  of  the  glass  the  appearance  of 
having  been  beautifully  engraved. 


492  NEVER  AGAIN. 

This  room  communicated  by  a  narrow  arch-way  \vitli  a 
larger  room  beyond.  Besides  the  arch,  a  further  portion  of 
the  partition  had  been  cut  away  at  the  back  of  the  bar,  making 
an  opening  through  which  the  bar-tender  could  see  into  the 
larger  room,  and  pass  in  any  liquors  demanded. 

This  large  room  contained  two  billiard-tables  and  was 
lighted  only  by  gas.  At  the  upper  end  were  a  dozen  round 
tables  similar  to  those  in  the  front.  A  door,  so  framed  in  the 
wood-work,  however,  as  scarcely  to  attract  attention,  indi 
cated  a  further  room  of  some  kind  beyond. 

The  ceilings  of  both  rooms  were  so  low  that  they  could 
easily  be  reached  by  even  a  man  of  short  stature.  Evidence 
that  more  than  one  man's  hand  had  reached  the  ceiling  of  the 
room  was  furnished  in  numerous  charcoal  and  red  chalk 
sketches  which  adorned  it.  The  sides  of  the  room  were  also 
liberally  ornamented  with  similar  artistic  touches.  Few  of 
them  had  any  merit  either  in  design  or  execution,  consisting 
mostly  of  scrolls  and  arabesques  run  wild,  or  distorted  faces 
and  figures,  and  attempts,  and  generally  very  poor  attempts, 
at  caricature.  Only  one  "  design"  really  merited  observation. 

It  represented  the  first  Napoleon  dressed  up  in  his  shroud 
to  resemble  an  old  cook.  Napoleon  the  third,  representing  a 
charcutier,  stands  behind  his  counter  and  offers  a  dead  eagle. 
"  Quoi  !  un  aigle  ?  What !  an  eagle  ?  "  demands  the  great 
Emperor. 

"  Autrefois,  man  onde,  mats  maintenant  un  beau  coq  de  bru- 
ylre.  Formerly,  my  uncle,  but  now  a  nice  grouse." 

The  uncle  pulls  a  handful  of  tail  feathers,  and  applies 
them  to  his  nose.  "Pah!  que  Jest  mur !  trap  de  fumct"  he 
exclaims.  "  Voiis  Favez  garde,  trap  longtemps.  It  is  too  high, 
you  have  kept  him  too  long." 

Luther  had  wandered  into  this  room,  and  his  attention 
was  attracted  by  the  spirit  and  vigor  that  characterized  the  de 
sign.  He  particularly  admired  the  neat  way  in  which  the 
labels  from  the  mouths  of  the  speakers  were  interlaced,  so  as 
to  indicate  the  succession  of  the  conversation.  He  was  so 
occupied  in  studying  the  various  mural  decorations  that,  fav- 


NEVER   AGAIN.  493 

ored  also  by  the  kindly  oversight  of  the  Captain,  ne  escaped 
his  share  in  the  first  potations. 

The  only  occupants  of  the  rooms  besides  the  landlord — a 
short  burly  mongrel,  half  German,  half  French,  from  the 
neighborhood  of  Strasburg — and  his  bar-keeper  and  billiard- 
marker,  a  little  black-haired,  black-eyed,  dirty-skinned  speci 
men  of  the  stumpy  race,  to  which  a  few  generations  more  of 
conscription  and  war  will  reduce  the  whole  population  of 
France — were  two  men  in  seedy  costume  seated  at  one  of  the 
four  round  tables.  A  pack  of  cards  was  lying  between  them, 
but  they  were  not  playing,  probably  because  playing  involved 
paying,  at  least  for  drinks,  and,  to  judge  from  their  looks,  it 
was  very  doubtful  whether  they  could  muster  the  price  of  a 
glass  between  them. 

The  Captain  gave  them  a  glance,  and  then  winked  at  the 
landlord.  Generosity  is  ever  the  role  of  the  sailor.  "  I  say, 
Cooner,"  he  exclaimed,  "  those  fellows  haven't  freshened  their 
nip  yet  this  morning." 

"  Well,  I  guess  they  are  ready  to  take  a  new  hold  if  they 
have." 

"  Well,  give  'em  a  chance  at  any  rate,"  and  the  Captain 
advanced  toward  them  a  step,  and  pulling  the  brim  of  his 
straw  hat,  scraped  his  foot  on  the  sanded  floor.  "  Parlez 
TJOUS  Fran^ais,  Mounseers  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Oh,  out,"  replied  one  of  the  men.  "  C^est  ma  langue 
natale,  mats  Monsieur  id  est  It  a  lien." 

"Well,  Italian  or-  French,  it's  all  the  same  thing,  since 
you  parla  voo  franpais.  So,  will  you  join  us  in  a  horn  ?" 

"  What  do  you  say,  sir  ?  " 

"  What  do  I  say  ?  Why  I  say  parla  voo  francais,  but  per 
haps  I'd  better  try  the  other  fellow  in  Italian.  Parlate  voi 
Italianno  ?  " 

"  Si,  Signer." 

"  Well  then,  will  you  step  up  here  and  join  us  in  a  horn  ? 
Libate,  eh  ?  per  Baccho."  The  Captain's  gestures  were  easily 
understood,  however  unintelligible  his  language  might  be. 

"  Name  your  liquors,  mounseers  ;  what  shall  it  be  ?     Ab- 


494  VEVER  AGAIN. 

sinthe.  Well,  two  glasses  of  the  pisin.  Do  you  hear,  Rummy  ? 
Doo  vere  of  absinthe.  Cooner,  you  go  for  the  Bourbon  straight. 
Here's  to  you,  mounseers ;  all  the  hair  off  your  heads,  and  if 
you  do  have  to  scud  under  bare  poles,  may  you  never  yaw,  so 
as  to  come  by  the  lee.  Come,  Jet  us  sit  down.  It  don't  cost 
any  more,  I  believe — Americans  are  the  only  people  that  stand 
up  to  their  liquor." 

Mr.  Cooner  remained  at  the  bar,  talking  to  the  landlord, 
while  the  Captain  and  his  new  acquaintances  seated  them 
selves  at  one  of  the  tables,  and  were  soon  on  the  most  friendly 
terms,  clinking  their  glasses  and  exchanging  compliments  in 
a  jumble  of  sea-talk  and  broken  English,  with  scraps  of  French, 
Italian,  and  even  Latin  thrown  in. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  signor,  we  sailors  ama  the  Italianos," 
he  exclaimed,  as  the  conversation  grew  animated,  "  they  are 
devilish  good  fellows, — bono  fellores, — comprenez  vous  ?  And 
they  are  good  sailors,  only  it  takes  such  a  bloody  lot  of  'em 
to  do  any  work.  Why,  I've  seen  twenty-five  fellows  making 
sail  on  a  felucca  of  thirty  tons  ;  but  they  are  devilish  bono  fel 
lores,  if  it  does  take  a  good  many  of  them  to  make  a  crew. 
And  we  owe  'em  mollo  grazzos.  There's  Columbus,  vous 
savez.  Ah  !  molto  grande  homo ;  no  greater  skipper  ever 
walked  a  quarter-deck.  Why,  I'll  be  d — d  if  senze  questo 
grande  Capitano  we  should  not  have  been  all  cussed  Indians 
here  to  this  day.  Comprenez  vous,  signor?  malditos  Indi- 
anos !  Let  us  boirez  a  la  sante  of  il  grande  Skipperano." 

A  general  clinking  of  glasses  followed  this  invitation. 

"  Do  you  know,  mounseers,"  continued  the  Captain,  "  we 
get  a  good  deal  of  our  lingo  from  the  Italians.  Why,  you  can 
hardly  give  an  order  on  ship-board  without  talking  Italian. 
You  know,  mounseers,  what  starboard  and  larboard  means?" 

-"  Oh,  oui,  oui.   Starboard  d  droite,  so  ;  larboard  d  gauche,  so.'' 

"  Ah  !  I  see,  you  savez.  Well,  where  the  devil  do  you 
suppose  those  words  come  from  ?  Look  here  now,  ecoutez, 
as  we  say  in  France  ;  questa  borda  !  good  Italian  ain't  it,  sig 
nor  ?  I  thought  so  ;  and  what  does  it  mean  ?  translate  it  into 
English,  si1 1  vous  plait" 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


495 


"  Questo  borda,  this  side,"  replied  the  Italian. 

"  Good,  signer,  I  knew  you'd  guess  it,  you've  hit  it  exactly, 
you've  got  it  as  straight  as  a  purser's  log — devil  the  figure  on 
either  side  more  or  less.  Well,  don't  you  see  now,  questa 
borda — sta  borda — starboard.  There  you  have  it — every 
time  a  fellow  says  starboard  your  helm,  or  hard  a  starboard, 
he  talks  just  as  good  Italian  as  the  king  of  Italy.  And  now 
for  a  pull  on  your  larboard  braces.  Qiiella  borda,  what  is 
that  ? " 

"  Qitetto  borda,  this  side." 

"  Quello  or  quella,  just  as  you  please.  I  wouldn't  give  a 
pig's  grunt  between  an  oh  !  and  an  ah  !  It's  all  bono  Itali- 
ano  ?  I  thought  so.  Well,  quella  borda — la  borda — larboard. 
You  capisco  that — you  do  '?  Well,  you'd  be  a  d — d  fool  if 
you  didn't.  It's  as  plain  as  a  kink  in  a  pig's  tail.  Here's 
to  you,  gents,  all,  and  may  you  never  want  a  drop  or  two 
of  water  to  season  your  grog  with." 

This  last  salutation  was  addressed  to  two  or  three  new 
comers,  who,  although  tolerably  well  clad,  and  evidently  be 
longing  to  a  very  different  order  of  society,  had  all  that 
shrunken  and  not-well-to-do-look  so  characteristic  of  a  certain 
class  of  foreigners,  especially  those  who  frequent  restaurants 
like  that  of  Mr.  Roset. 

';  See  here,  Rosy,"  shouted  the  Captain  to  the  landlord. 
"  Do  you  see  these  ere  gentlemen,  with  nothing  in  their  fists 
to  hold  on  by  ;  and  you've  got  liquor  enough  there  to  float  a 
line-of  battle  ship  ?  Come,  bail  it  out  here  now;  bail  it  out. 
It's  my  treat,  gents.  You  won't  refuse  to  lend  a  helping  hand 
to  a  sailor  in  distress,  will  you  ?  I've  got  to  clean  that  fellow's 
bar  out.  The  revenue  folks  sent  me  here.  They  said,  "  Jack, 
you  can't  sail  to-day  ;  you  must  go  up  and  drink  that  Rosy 
fellow  as  dry  as  a  pampero.  So  lend  a  hand,  and  don't  cut  up 
proud  ;  you  may  be  Dukes  and  Counts,  and  I  don't  doubt  you 
are,  but  that's  no  reason  why  you  should  spring  your  luff  at 
the  first  hail.  Come,  what  shall  it  be  ? " 

At  the  order  for  unlimited  liquors,  Mr.  Roset  turned  to 
Mr.  Cooner.  He  knew  nothing  of  Cooner.  Perhaps  if  he 


496  NEVER  AGAIN. 

had,  he  would  not  have  turned  to  him.  "  He's  old  friend  of 
yers.  Eh  !  you  know  him  var  well  ?  " 

"  Know  him,"  replied  Cooner,  "  I  know  him  all  to  pieces  ! 
Why,  I'd  know  his  hide  in  a  tanyard.  He's  an  old  messmate 
of  mine,  used  to  sail  in  the  same  ship ;  saved  his  life  once. 
I'll  tell  you  how  it  was.  You  see,  it  was  blowing  like  the 
devil — dark  as  Egypt ;  a  gust  came  along  and  took  the  Cap 
tain's  hat  off.  'Jack,'  said  he,  'jump  overboard  and  pick  my 
hat  up.'  So  overboard  Jack  went.  '  My  Heavens,'  said  I, 
'  Captain,  he  can't  swim  a  stroke.'  '  Can't  he  ? '  said  he  ; 
'  well,  jump  overboard  and  help  him;'  so  overboard  I  went. 
I  caught  him  by  the  hair  of  his  head,  just  as  he  was  going 
down  for  the  third  and  last  time.  Well,  at  that  minute  the 
hurricane  blew  its  d — dest,  and  the  ship  flew  off  to  leeward  so 
that  I  couldn't  get  aboard.  The  captain  threw  us  an  old  hen 
coop,  and  with  that  I  kept  Jack  up  all  night,  and  the  next 
morning  we  met  a  vessel  bound  for  Liverpool,  and  she  picked 
us  up  and  took  us  in." 

Was  Mr.  Cooner  lying?  Hardly;  he  was  like  a  many 
post-prandial  story-tellers,  in  good  society,  merely  indulg 
ing  his  imagination.  When  a  gentleman  like  Mr.  Dingly 
or  Mr.  Budds  finds  himself  at  the  mercy  of  an  o'ermastering 
imagination,  it  is  admitted  to  be  wrong,  very  wrong,  for  his 
club  friends  and  companions  to  call  him  the  biggest  liar  in  town. 
Why  should  not,  then,  a  poor  blackguard  like  Cooner  have 
a  similar  mantle  of  charity  thrown  over  his  comparatively 
moderate  exercise  of  the  romancing  faculty  ? 

"Zay,  got  money?"  demanded  the  landlord.  "Oh,  you 
bet,"  was  the  answer.  "  They  can  pay  for  all  the  liquor  you 
can  pour  into  them.  They  have  got  their  advance  in  their 
pockets.  They  just  want  to  keep  shady  for  a  day  or  two  ;  and 
I  don't  believe  there  is  any  money  to  be  made  by  blowing  on 
'em.  I  brought  'em  in  here  on  account  of  that  old  Bourbon. 
I'll  take  another  small  horn,  and  then  I  must  clear  out. 
Got  something  to  look  after  at  home,  but  I'll  come  in  and 
try  it  again  some  time.  You  can  chalk  it  all  in  the  bill,  you 
know ;"  and  Cooner  winked  and  put  his  thumb  to  his  nose. 


NEVER   AGAIN.  497 

"  Oh,  je  twig,  je  twig.  Very  happy  to  see  you  any  time, 
every  time,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Roset.  "I  sail  take  care  for 
your  friends.  If  somebody  comes  for  them,  nobody  sail  find 
'em  in  dis  place." 

"  Good-bye,  shipmate,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Cooner,  shaking 
hands  with  the  Captain.  "  I'll  see  you  again.  I'll  drop  in 
this  afternoon.  I  guess  you  can't  do  better  than  stay  here. 
First-rate  place  to  lay  low  in.  Mr.  Roset  he'll  make  you 
comfortable  ;  give  you  a  bed  up-stairs,  and  something  to  eat. 
You  can  keep  shady  for  a  week  here  if  you  choose." 

"  Yes,  sar,  everything  dat's  convenable  is  here  at  your 
service,"  interposed  Mr.  Roset. 

"Much  obliged,"  replied  the  Captain.  "I'm  sure  I'm 
satisfied ;  this  is  a  first-rate  place  to  wood  and  water  in — 
good  holding-ground  ;  liquor  good,  and  enough  of  it  to  float 
a  fellow  safely, — I  guess  I'll  come  to  an  anchor  here,  but  I'm 
not  going  to  bitt  too  short.  I'll  give  her  a  smart  scope. 
You  see  we  must  have  a  little  room  to  swing  to  moorings. 
Can't  stick  down  here  all  the  time.  The  youngster  '11  get 
tired  ;  so  we'll  just  float  around  a  little  in  this  neighborhood, 
and  heave  short  whenever  we  want  to  take  in  a  little  more 
ballast.  You'll  find  us  here  this  evening." 

Luther  was'knocking  about  the  billiard-balls  in  the  other 
room.  Mr.  Cooner  went  in  to  bid  him  good-bye,  and  availed 
himself  of  the  opening  at  the  back  of  the  bar,  to  try  another 
small  glass  of  Bourbon.  Coming  out  into  the  front  room,  the 
Captain  proposed  one  more  drink.  To  this  Mr.  Cooner  at 
first  demurred,  but  suddenly  recollecting  himself,  he  pulled 
out  his  watch.  "Well,"  he  exclaimed,  "it  is  just  eleven 
o'clock.  I  don't  care  if  I  do.  I  always  take  a  drink  exactly 
at  eleven  o'clock.  I  don't  think  an  eleven  o'clocker  hurts 
any  fellow,  if  he's  only  regular." 

"  That's  right,  my  hearty,"  responded  the  Captain,  giving 
Mr.  Cooner  a  friendly  slap  on  the  back.  "  Nothing  like  regu 
lar  drinks  for  a  man's  constitution,  especially  if  he  minds  his 
dunnage.  I  don't  like  this  drinking  on  an  empty  stomach. 
If  you  want  to  carry  your  liquor  easy  on  a  long  voyage,  you 
32 


498 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


must  put  down  something  for  it  to  lie  on.  This  drinking 
before  breakfast  is  like  stowing  a  cargo  of  railroad  iron  on  to 
your  kelson  ;  sooner  or  later  it  will  snap  your  sticks  out  of 
you.  But  eat  a  good  hearty  breakfast,  and  then  drink  regular 
— say  every  half  hour,  and  swamp  my  gig  if  you  can't  stand 
it  forever." 

Mr.  Cooner  swallowed  his  fourth  glass,  and  after  renewed 
hand-shakings,  started  for  his  den  in  Canal  Street,  to  bully  and 
brow-beat,  perchance,  some  poor  devil  of  a  mechanic  out  of 
work,  or  some  miserable  wretch  of  a  seamstress,  while  making 
him  or  her  a  loan  at  two  hundred  per  cent. 

A  game  of  billiards  was  proposed  by  the  bar-keeper, 
between  himself  and  Luther,  and  the  Captain  and  his  compan 
ions  moved,  with  their  glasses,  in  to  the  back  saloon  to  watch 
the  play.  The  gas,  turned  on  in  full  force,  flared  and  flick 
ered  under  two  dingy  tin  shades  attached  to  the  low  ceiling, 
lighting  up  the  bed  of  a  shabby  table.  The  cloth,  worn  here 
and  there  quite  threadbare,  and  even  patched  in  places,  had 
nearly  lost,  under  the  influence  of  time,  chalk,  dust,  and  the 
constant  friction  of  dirty  hands,  its  original  color,  and  assumed 
what  might  be  described  as  either  a  filthy  yellowish  gray,  or  a 
dirty  whitish  brown.  A  slight,  but  suspicious  want  of  level, 
indicated  by  the  balls  hugging  the  cushion  on  one  side,  and 
exhibiting  a  decided  inclination  to  one  corner  pocket,  would 
at  once  have  led  a  strange  expert  to  the  idea  that  perhaps  the 
mal-adjustment  was  allowed  in  the  hopes  that  an  exact  knowl 
edge  of  the  run  of  the  balls  might  occasionally  give  a  decided 
advantage  to  Monsieur  Roset  or  his  markers,  over  their  igno- 
ant  opponents.  Luther  had  played  hardly  a  dozen  games  in 
his  life,  but,  for  one  of  his  limited  experience,  he  was  unusu 
ally  expert.  He  knew  at  least  enough  of  the  game  to  suspect 
at  the  first  stroke  or  two,  made  with  affected  awkardness,  that 
his  opponent  was  a  strong  hand. 

"We  shall  bet  a  little  something.  One  dollar,  two  dollar, 
eh  ? "  demanded  the  fellow. 

Luther  demurred.  "  I  don't  know  anything  about  billiards 
or  betting.  You  are  much  stronger  than  I.  You  can  give 
me  seventy-five  in  a  hundred." 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


499 


"  No,  sar.  I  know  nothing.  I  play  just  two,  three  games 
in  all  my  life.  Everybody  beat  me  ;  but  if  you  want,  I  give 
you  twenty  points  ;  'tis  too  much,  but  I  give  you  twenty 
points,  and  we  play  three  games  for  five  dollar." 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind,  Mr.  Velvet  Jacket,"  interposed  Cap 
tain  Combings,  swaggering  up  to  the  table.  "  I  don't  allow 
this  youngster  to  bet.  He's  nothing  but  a  sucking  sailor  yet, 
and  I  ain't  going  to  have  any  land-sharks  get  hold  of  him. 
Besides,  he  ain't  got  any  money.  I  carry  the  swag.  Look-a- 
here,  do  you  see  that  ?  "  and  the  Captain  slapped  a  large  roll  of 
bills  down  on  the  table.  "  I'll  tell  you  what — I'll  play  you  ;  but 
it's  dry  work  playing  for  money,  and  no  fun  in  it.  I'll  play 
you  for  Champagne  for  all  hands.  Let  me  see,"  and  the  Cap 
tain  counted  up  the  company,  which  had  received  several 
accessions  from  the  outside.  "  Ten  in  all,  and  more  coming," 
he  exclaimed,  as  two  men  entered  and  took  their  places  at 
one  of  the  round  tables.  "  Bring  on  a  basket  of  your  fizzling 
stuff.  Gentlemen,  you  must  all  liquor-up  at  the  expense  of 
Velvy  or  myself.  We  are  going  to  see  who's  got  to  foot  the 
bill." 

Luther,  thus  relieved,  quietly  returned  to  one  corner, 
where,  unobserved  himself,  he  could  watch  the  game  and  at 
the  same  time  study  the  faces  of  the  company,  and  especially 
notice  any  new-comers.  His  attention  was  particularly  at 
tracted  by  the  two  who  had  just  entered.  One  was  a  small, 
compact,  good-looking  man,  with  something  of  the  air  of  a 
gentleman  about  him.  The  face  seemed  to  Luther's  eye  to 
have  a  familiar  look.  He  thought  of  Mr.  Planly's  visitor,  and 
his  heart  began  to  beat.  But  this  man  had  no  whiskers  or 
mustache,  and  upon  further  examination  he  seemed  to  be  a 
much  younger  man.  His  companion,  a  large,  powerfully- 
built  man,  was  also  closely  shaven,  and  kept  his  slouched  hat 
drawn  down  well  over  his  face. 

Luther  dared  not  look  too  attentively  at  them,  but  he  was 
able  to  satisfy  himself  that  the  big  man  had  a  skin  that  bore 
no  evidences  of  the  small  pox.  That  settled  the  question. 
The  face  he  was  in  search  of  was  deeply  pitted,  and  that  was 
the  only  certain  thins;  he  knew  about  it. 


500  XF.VER   AC  A IX. 

He  tried  to  catch  their  voices,  but,  although  he  sat  quite 
near  them,  not  a  word  reached  his  ear  ;  in  fact,  as  he  noticed, 
they  scarcely  exchanged  a  syllable.  The  small  man  quietly 
accepted  his  glass  of  Champagne,  and  the  big  one,  pulling 
his  brule-gueule  from  his  pocket,  proceeded  to  fill  it  and  smoke 
in  silence. 

The  noisy  antics  of  the  Captain  attracted  the  general  atten 
tion  of  the  company,  as,  amid  much  laughter  and  loud  com 
ments  in  various  languages,  the  game  went  on.  Luther  was 
not  only  amused  but  astonished.  He  could  hardly  believe 
that  the  talkative,  swearing,  swaggering  sailor  could  be  his 
old  dignified  and  gentlemanly  friend,  Captain  Combings,  and 
the  thought  occurred  to  him  that  perhaps  the  Captain  was  get 
ting,  as  he  himself  would  have  expressed  it,  a  little  too  much 
by  the  head.  He  would  have  been  quite  convinced  of  it  if  he 
had  not  received  an  assuring  wink  now  and  then,  and  had 
not  noticed  that  the  Captain  took  every  opportunity  to  flirt 
under  the  table  the  largest-sized  heel-taps. 

Luther  was  also  amused  by  the  evident  skill  with  which 
the  Captain's  opponent  succeeded  in  preventing  his  score  ever 
running  more  than  two  or  three  points  ahead,  and  his  funny 
affectation  of  rage  when  an  adroit  miss  gave  the  Captain  the 
first  game,  as  well  as  by  the  Captain's  equally  funny  affecta 
tion  of  triumphant  glee  when  some  lucky  scratch  rewarded  an 
unusually  bungling  effort. 

It  was  a  fair  match,  although  to  most  of  the  company  it 
looked  so  wholly  one-sided.  Both  were  acting.  Luther  alone 
knew  that  the  Captain  was  the  deepest  player.  How  often  is 
it  so  in  all  the  affairs  of  life,  particularly  in  the  affairs  of  love  ? 
Deceiver  and  deceived  !  and  out  gush  the  sympathies  of  the 
lookers  on,  when,  perhaps,  both  have  been  equally  playing  a 
part,  and  the  latter,  perhaps,  the  deepest  role  of  the  two. 

In  the  midst  of  his  noisy  demonstrations  of  triumph,  the 
Captain  found  an  opportunity  of  giving  Luther  a  sharp,  swift 
glance,  which  said  as  plainly  as  words  could  say — "  Do  you 
see  any  indications  ?" 

Luther  shook  his  head  hesitatingly,  and  glanced  in  turn  at 


NEVER  AGAIN.  501 

the  couple  we  have  noticed,  who  still  occupied  their  table  in 
silence,  quietly  sipping  their  Champagne  and  watching,  but 
without  uny  marks  of  interest,  the  progress  of  the  game. 
Luther  conjectured  that  they  had  an  appointment  with  some 
one,  and  were  awaiting  his  arrival. 

Again  the  noisy  game  came  to  an  end,  but  this  time  the 
marker  gained  the  victory  by  ten  points.  This  result  the 
Captain  demonstrated  to  the  company  was  due  entirely  to  the 
scratches  of  his  opponent  and  his  own  bad  luck.  "  Why  just 
look,  all  you  parlez  voos, — just  look-a-here  now.  Don't  you 
see  the  deep  red  was  just  there;  my  ball  was  just  here; 
and  there  was  the  light  red.  Well,  says  I  to  myself,  I'll  try 
that  bloody  red  on  the  port  tack,  and  fly-doozle  off  into  that 
infernal  pale  fellow.  It  was  just  as  simple  a  thing  as  a  dose 
of  salts.  Nothing  could  be  plainer — it  was  as  plain  as  a  cap 
stan-bar,  or  a  belaying-pin  in  the  hand  of  a  knock-me-down 
mate.  I  just  took  my  ball — so, — a  little  under  the  counter  ; 
but  I  suppose  I  must  have  given  her  a  cant  to  starboard,  for 
d — n  me  if  she  didn't  go  down,  pitch  in  on  the  wrong  side, 
scoot  off  to  the  lower  bank,  come  up  and  catch  the  bloody 
red  again  just  as  he  was  getting  his  port  tacks  aboard.  She 
gave  him  a  regular  stern-lifter,  knocked  him  kersmash  into 
the  pale  fellow,  and  all  squiggled  into  moorings  on  the  same 
tide  just  here  in  this  corner.  Now,  mounseers,  perhaps  you 
can't  all  of  you  uncoil  the  English  as  nicely,  fake  after  fake, 
as  you  can  your  own  lingo,  but  you  can  understand  this  much 
— that  any  lubber  who  don't  know  the  difference  between  a 
squillgee  and  a  marling-spike  can  drive  a  pair  of  grains  into 
a  shoal  of  rudder  fish,  and  that's  the  way  Velvy  gets  the 
game.  All  he  had  to  do  was  just  to  smash  in  his  ball  here — 
he  must  hit  something.  Don't  you  see  it  was  mere  luck  ?  A 
kind  of  knock-my-neighbor  affair.  If  you  don't  hit  Jack,  you 
can  kick  Bill,  and  get  some  enjoyment  out  of  the  muss. 
Don't  you  think  so,  mounseers?" 

"  Vero,"  politely  replied  an  Italian  in  the  crowd. 

"Veer  her?  I  don't  care  two  straws  whether  you  veer  or 
haul  on  that  line.  It's  a  solid  fact,  and  you  can't  swing  her 
head  off  a  single  pint." 


502  NEVER  AGAIN. 

The  third  game  was  commenced. 

"Moor  your  ball,  Velvy;  anywhere  you  please.  I  don't 
care.  You  can't  get  out  of  my  way.  I'm  coming  down  on  a. 
full  flood,  and  you  may  be  devilish  sure  I'll  fetch  up  athwart 
your  hawse  somehow." 

The  Captain  looked  up  after  making  his  shot,  glanced  at 
Luther,  and  saw  him  staring  with  all  his  eyes  at  a  man  who  at 
this  moment  showed  himself  in  the  doorway. 

The  new-comer  was  of  medium  height,  but  with  something 
colossal  in  his  physical  make  up,  that  at  once  impressed  the 
beholder  with  the  idea  of  enormous  muscular  strength  and 
vigor.  From  a  deep  chest  and  immensely  wide  shoulders, 
rose  a  bull  neck,  and  this  was  surmounted  by  a  large  head 
covered  with  a  thick  matting  of  black,  curly  hair.  The  face 
was  more  than  half  concealed  by  beard  and  mustache  of  the 
same  color,  but  what  could  be  seen  of  it  was  deeply  marked 
with  pits  of  the  small-pox.  Small,  but  piercing  eyes  gleamed 
from  beneath  shaggy  eyebrows,  and  gave  an  expression  of 
acuteness,  combined  with  ferocity,  to  a  countenance  which 
otherwise  might  have  been  noted  only  for  its  simple  ugliness. 

As  the  man  paused  for  a  moment  in  the  doorway,  Luther 
had  time  to  recover  his  composure  of  external  manner,  but  his 
heart  beat  violently,  as  he  distinctly  recognized  the  face  that 
he  had  seen  peering  into  the  attic  window  of  Madame  Steignitz' 
room. 

And  now  a  reaction  of  feeling  assisted  him  in  recovering 
entire  command  of  himself.  Here  under  his  eyes  was  the 
man  beyond  a  doubt,  and  Luther  resolved  that  he  would  never 
let  him  up,  until  he  had  tracked  him  to  his  most  secret  lair. 
But  what  if  he  had  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  disappearance 
of  the  old  woman  ?  What  if  she  had  gone  off  herself,  as  the 
police  believed?  For  the  moment,  Luther  did  not  feel  quite  so 
sure  of  his  conclusions,  and  yet  it  was  certain  that  Mr.  Planly 
took  the  same  view  of  the  case  and  had  even  furnished  the 
most  incontestable  proof  that  an  enl'evement  had  been  contem 
plated. 

Luther  drew  his  cap  down  over  his  eyes,  and  threw  him- 


NEVER  AGAIN.  503 

self  half  reclining  into  the  furthest  corner  of  the  settee,  upon 
which  he  had  been  lounging.  This  brought  his  head  in  close 
contact  with  the  wooden  partition  that  separated  the  back  area 
from  the  billiard-room,  and  further  away  from  the  table  at 
which  were  seated  in  silence  the  two  men  whose  voiceg  he 
had  been  so  anxious  to  overhear,  but  it  enabled  him  to  keep  a 
furtive  watch  upon  the  movements  of  the  new-comer,  who,  for 
some  moments,  seemed  undecided  whether  to  enter  the  room 
or  not.  He  hesitated,  peered  round  the  room,  through  the 
thick  haze  of  smoke  emitted  by  a  dozen  cigarettes,  spoke  to 
some  one  near  him,  as  if  demanding  an  explanation  of  the 
scene,  and  only  at  last  in  obedience  to  a  beckoning  gesture, 
advanced  across  the  room. 

"  You're  late,  Brochu,"  exclaimed  the  smallest  of  the  two. 
"  The  Doctor  here  has  been  getting  impatient,  but  I  thought 
I  would  say  nothing  about  our  affair  until  you  came.  He  is 
willing  to  help  us  if  he  likes  the  job,  and  anyway  he  will  keep 
our  counsel." 

Luther  was  too  far  off  to  catch  all  the  words,  but  the  tone 
of  voice  in  which  they  were  uttered  sent  a  thrill  through  every 
pulse  of  his  frame. 

The  man  addressed  as  Brochu  made  no  reply,  but 
motioned  towards  the  door  in  the  partition  ;  at  the  same 
time  giving  an  inquiring  glance  at  the  young  man  who  was 
reclining  on  the  settee  with  his  cap  drawn  over  his  face,  in  a 
pretended  sleep. 

"  Oh,  nothing  to  fear,"  remarked  the  small  man,  as,  in 
obedience  to  the  new-comer's  gesture,  the  two  rose  from 
their  seat  and  moved  to  the  table  indicated. 

"  Nothing  to  fear ;  they  are  runaway  sailors." 

"Yankees?" 

"  Yes,  without  doubt." 

"  And  this  youngster  ?  I  will  just  take  a  look  at  his 
face." 

"  No,  no,  don't  disturb  him  ;  he  is  drunk,  I  think,  and  his 
companion  there  is  a  quarrelsome  fellow ;  there  is  no  use 
getting  into  a  row." 


5°4 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


All  this  was  uttered  in  French,  and  in  a  low  tone,  but 
Luther's  ear  caught  nearly  every  word  of  it.  He  expected 
each  moment  to  have  his  cap  snatched  away,  and  to  stand 
face  to  face  with  the  man  whose  eyes  had,  perhaps,  more 
than  once  watched  him  while  seated  in  the  room  of  Madame 
Steignitz. 

Luckily  the  Captain  swaggered  up  just  in  time,  with 
a  bottle  of  Champagne  in  his  hand.  "  Come,  mounseer, 
you  must  boirez  or  beuvez,  or  whatever  you  call  it,  as  well  as 
the  rest.  No  skulking  allowed  ;  fill  up,  fill  up  all  around. 
Here's  to  you,  mounseer,  here's  to  your  sante.  May  you 
never  be  taken  aback  by  the  winds  of  adversity — may  you 
never  founder  in  the  seas  of  distress.  May  you  always 
keep  way  with  fortune.  May  you  get  the  weather-gauge  of 
old  Time,  and  jam  him  hard  down  into  the  nineties,  and  may 
you  go  to  Heaven  at  last,  with  everything  drawing,  from 
courses  to  royals,  and  a  fresh  gospel  breeze  right  over  your 
taffrail." 

The  action  and  words  of  the  Captain  seemed  to  remove 
any  feeling  of  suspicion,  and  the  man  thus  addressed  quietly 
took  his  glass  of  Champagne,  replied  to  the  Captain's 
sentiment  with  a  nod,  and  turned  back  to  his  companions. 

The  game  of  billiards  was  resumed  with  vigor — the 
three  men  looking  on  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then 
quietly  stepping  out  of  the  door  that  opened  into  the  passage 
way  between  the  kitchen  and  the  small  room  into  which  the 
enclosed  area  had  been  divided. 

Luther  started,  and  looked  after  them,  but  the  door  closed 
and  he  could  see  nothing.  The  next  moment  he  knew,  from 
the  sound  of  feet  and  voices,  that  they  had  entered  the  small 
room,  and  had  taken  seats  at  a  table  separated  only  by  a  thin 
curtained  window  from  the  large  room,  and  within  a  foot  or 
two  of  the  end  of  the  settee  upon  which  he  had  been  lying ; 
in  fact  by  shifting  his  position  to  the  other  end  of  the  settee, 
he  could  bring  his  ear  to  within  three  or  four  inches  of  the 
cracked  panes,  and  by  throwing  back  his  head  as  far  into  the 
corner  as  possible  he  could  see  by  the  edge  of  the  curtain, 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


505 


and  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  table  around  which  they  were 
seated. 

He  could  hear  but  imperfectly,  amid  the  noisy  conversation 
going  on  at  the  lower  end  of  the  large  room,  but  occasionally 
sentences,  especially  when  the  voices  on  the  other  side  of  the 
window  were  raised  a  little,  came  to  his  ear  quite  distinctly. 
Familiar  as  he  had  become  with  the  French,  there  were 
every  now  and  then  phrases  that  he  could  hardly  understand, 
mixed  up,  as  they  were,  with  argot  and  slang.  For  some  of 
these  he  needed  a  translation  almost  as  much  as  the  reader. 
The  allusions,  not  in  all  cases  so  obscure,  it  is  unnecessary  to 
explain. 

A  silence  of  a  few  moments  ensued  after  placing  them 
selves  at  the  table.  The  small  man,  addressed  by  his  com 
panions  as  Monsieur  Ricord,  amused  himself  by  drumming 
with  his  fingers  and  humming  an  air  from  Massaniello,  while 
the  one  called  the  Doctor,  and  Brochu,  the  last  comer,  pulled 
away  vigorously  in  silence  at  their  pipes  oftetes  culott'ees. 

"  Ainsi"  at  length  exclaimed  Brochu,  " le  comite  a  encore 
une  fois  manque  son  coup.  Le  brigand  est  invulnerable.  So  the 
committee  has  again  missed  its  blow.  The  brigand  is  invul 
nerable." 

Mr.  Ricord  stopped  his  drumming  with  a  loud  tap  upon 
the  table. 

" Mais,  aussi,"  he  exclaimed,  "pourquoi  diable  s>acharnent 
Us  toujours  d  viser  cette  carcasse  cuirassee  ?  Le  gredin  est  pourri ; 
il  mourra  bientot  de  sa  belle  mort.  C*est  le  petit  qu'il  faut  escof- 
fier.  But  why  do  they  always  aim  at  that  armored  carcass. 
The  scoundrel  is  rotten,  and  he  will  soon  die  of  himself.  It 
is  the  little  one  that  we  ought  to  squelch." 

"  Cest  ce  quefai  toujours  dit"  replied  the  Doctor.  "  II faut 
avant  tout  exterminer  la  eouvee.  Les  Jobards  et  les  Chauvains 
n'auraienf  plus  de  point  d'appui.  Ah,  si  jamais  je  remets  />> 
pieds  en  France,  nom  (Pun — " 

"  Fiche  moi  T  empire"  interposed  Brochu,  in  a  gruff  and  im 
patient  voice,  " avec  tes  bravades,  tu  fi'en  as  done  pas  encore  eu 
assez  de  Cayenne." 


506  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"Tonnerre!  ne  me  rappelle  pas  pa" — and  the  rest  of  the 
Doctor's  exclamation  was  lost  in  the  noise  of  the  room,  but 
he  could  hear  Mr.  Ricord  exclaim :  "  Allans,  allons  !  Calmc 
toi ;  bois  plutot  au  succes  d'une  nouvelle  tentative — etfypense. 
I  will  soon  have  in  my  hands  the  means  of  striking  a  blow  ! 
We  shall  see — we  shall  see !  Your  revenge  will  come  in  good 
time,  Doctor.  If  it  don't  you  may  call  me  le plus  grand  blagu- 
eur  que  la  terre  ait  ported 

"  Bah !  you  have  said  so  this  year  past.  Tu  nous  ember- 
lucoqties  avec  tes  contes  bleus" 

"  Tiens,  tiens.  The  Doctor  has  a  right  to  be  a  little  impa 
tient,"  interrupted  Brochu.  "  If  you  had  had  your  mistress 
shot  down  by  your  side  in  that  fusilade  on  the  Boulevard 
Poissonnu're  you  would  be  impatient  too,  until  you  see  the 
chief  murderer  get  his  deserts.  But  the  coup  d'etat  is  not  our 
subject  just  now.  We  have  another  coup — something  nearer 
home,  Doctor,  and  we  want  your  help.  II y  a  unfameux  coup 
qui  mettra  des  jaunets  dans  nos  goussets,  s>il  rcussil." 

"  Ah  voil<l !  s'il  reussit"  exclaimed  the  Doctor,  "  if  it  suc 
ceeds.  Mais  en  quoi  consiste-t-il  ?  " 

"  En  ceci;  ecoutez  moi  bien." 

The  speakers  now  bent  over  the  table,  their  heads  coming 
so  closely  together,  and  their  voices  subdued  to  so  low  a  tone, 
that  Luther  could  only  catch  now  and  then  a  word  or  two. 
But  every  word  he  did  hear  fell  upon  an  ear  strained  to  the 
utmost,  and  was  interpreted  by  an  imagination  that  flashed  a 
blaze  of  light  upon  what  would  to  an  ordinary  listener  have 
been  the  most  enigmatical  expressions. 

Une payse  qui  a  amasse,  des  ecus,  could  mean  only  Madame 
Steignitz.  This  was  rendered  certain,  when  the  same  voice 
spoke  of  la  quelle paysecelle  qui  se  donne  pour  une  pauvre-souf- 
freteuse  pour  mieux  tromper  le  monde  et  dcpister  les  voleurs. 

Who  but  Madame  Steignitz  had  money,  and  pretended  to 
be  a  poor  old  miserable  woman?  But,  as  if  to  settle  the  ques 
tion,  there  came  to  his  ear  the  words,  une  miserable  mait- 
sarde  dans  Wooster  Street  That  described  her  lodging 
exactly — a  miserable  mansard! 


NEVER  AGAIN.  507 

A  long  consultation  now  took  fllace,  in  a  very  low  tone, 
and  again  Luther  caught  a  phrase  or  two,  of  which  he  could  find 
a  meaning — a  meaning  that  fairly  made  his  hair  stand  on  end. 

"  Obstinate  old  devil ! — have  tried  flogging  ! — afraid  I'd 
kill  her ! — starvation  no  use  ! — no  water  for  three  days  ! — 
thought  she'd  die! — won't  eat  now  a  mouthful! — very  sick  ! 
— can't  speak ! "  And  again  followed  a  long  conversation, 
of  which  not  a  word  could  be  heard,  and  which  was  again  suc 
ceeded  by  a  few  phrases  blurted  out  in  a  louder  tone. 

"  You  must  help  us,  Doctor.  Vous  m'avouerez  qu'il  serait 
du  dernier  ridicule  de  laisser  une  vielle  meg^re  echapper  de  nos 
mains  sans  payer  son  layer.  If  she  dies,  we  have  the  credit, 
but  none  of  the  profit  of  murder.  I  don't  mind  that.  I 
don't  think  it  any  harm  to  put  such  a  miserable  devil  out  of 
the  way,  but  I  don't  wan't  to  make  a  fool  of  myself,  faire  une 
sottisc  pour  ricn,  any  more  than  our  friend  Ricord  here.  You 
must  contrive  some  way,  Doctor,  to  keep  her  alive  until  she 
disgorges." 

" Soyez  tranquille"  replied  the  Doctor  in  a  low  tone  suffi 
ciently  loud  for  Luther  to  follow  the  whole  phrase.  "Be 
easy.  Nous  laforcerons  a  degorger.  Mais  aprt s  ?  " 

"Aprls!  v  o  u  s  connaissez  le  Hudson?  You  know  the  Hudson, 
don't  you  ?  Well,  it  has  covered  heavier  business  than  this, 
but  we  won't  talk  of  that  just  now.  Une  fois  en  possession  du 
ma  got,  nous  aurons  du  pain  sur  la  planche.  We  will  have  bread 
for  a  while,  my  dear  Doctor,  and  we  can  wait  the  completion 
of  our  friend  Ricord's  infernal  gun.  C'est  a  dire  si  nos  cocotes 
ne  sont  pas  trop  dpre  d  la  curee." 

Luther  had  heard  enough.  He  began  to  be  apprehensive 
that  the  conference  might  break  up,  and  the  speakers  sud 
denly  leave  the  house  without  his  being  able  to  follow  them 
unobserved.  It  would  be  better  for  him  and  the  Captain  to 
leave  first  and  watch  from,  the  outside. 

The  game  of  billiards  had  come  to  an  end.  The  Captain 
admitted  himself  beaten,  by  his  own  bad  luck,  mainly. 
"  Although  I  kind  of  suspgct,  Velvy,  that  you  can  weather  on 
me  anyway ;  however,  some  other  time,  I'll  try  you  again.  I 


508  NEVER  AGAIX. 

say,  Rummy,  what  is  the  damage  ?  Forty  dollars,  eh  ?  Well, 
cider  and  turnip  juice  has  riz,  I  guess.  But  d — n  the  odds,  if 
they  only  put  in  the  fiz  strong  and  hearty.  Here's  the  money. 
What  is  it,  youngster?"  whispered  the  Captain. 

"Let  us  get  into  the  street  as  soon  as  possible,"  replied 
Luther  in  a  low  tone,  but  with  a  voice  that  sounded  strange 
and  husky  to  his  own  ear. 

"  I  understand,"  replied  the  Captain.  "  I  knew  him  the 
moment  I  put  my  eye  on  him.  Go  on,  I'll  follow  in  a  minute. 
Here,  Rummy,  count  your  rags.  Good,  ain't  they?  Oh 
never  mind  the  change  now, — pay  me  when  I  come  back.  I 
am  just  going  to  box  about  here  a  little — get  some  fresh  air, 
and  see  the  lay  of  the  land.  I'll  be  in  again  soon,"  and  with 
a  profusion  of  swaggering  salutations  the  Captain  followed 
Luther  into  the  street. 

"  Hold  on,  youngster.  I  ain't  quite  so  steady  on  my  pins. 
My  head  is  clear  enough,  but  that  confounded  stuff  has  got 
down  into  my  ankles  and  loosened  the  joints.  But  what  is 
the  matter?  You  look  as  if  you  had  been  keel-hauled,  or 
had  been  down  in  the  fore  peak  with  Bill  Hutching's  ghost. 
You've  seen  em  ?  I  was  sure  of  it." 

"  Seen  them  and  heard  them  too,"  replied  Luther.  "  But 
come  around  the  corner  here  ;  we  must  not  lose  sight  of  that 
door.  The  murderous  villains  are  all  in  there  now.  They  have 
the  old  woman  secreted  somewhere,  and  we  must  track  them 
when  they  come  out." 

"Well,  let  us  go  in  here.  Mr.  O'Reilley  has  got  aside 
window  there  that  we  can  look  out  of.  We've  got  to  "sample" 
some  of  his  imported  liquor,  I  suppose,"  said  the  Captain, 
looking  up  and  reading  the  sign.  "  Imported  from  a  Brooklyn 
distillery,  I  guess.  Confound  it,  I  don't  want  to  drink  any 
more,  but  \  suppose  I  must.  I  can't  say  with  Cassio,  that  I 
have  very  poor  and  unhappy  brains  for  drinking ;  but  still  I've 
had  enough. 

Mr.  Michael  O'Reilley's  "  sample-room"  happened  to  be 
remarkably  quiet.  The  crew  of  thieves,  bruisers  and  black 
guards  in  general  that  mostly  constituted  the  custom  of  the 


NEVER   AGAIN.  509 

place  were  all  "  on  the  prowl,''  and  only  a  few  old  "  soakers"  of 
no  account,  and  too  infirm  for  active  predatory  exertions, 
were  dozing  away  the  time  and  waiting  the  advent  of  some 
successful  junior  for  a  treat. 

The  two  chairs  by  the  side  window  looking  into  the  street 
were  vacant,  and  Luther  and  the  Captain  made  their  way 
down  the  length  of  the  room,  and  seated  themselves  so  as  to 
put  the  entrance  to  Monsieur  Roset's  saloon  directly  in  view, 

"  NQW,  Luther,"  said  the  Captain,  "  keep  your  weather  eye 
open,  and  go  on  with  your  story.  I'll  order  two  whiskey-skins. 
That  means  a  couple  of  glasses  of  alcohol,  with  a  drop  of 
creosote  in  each.  It  is  no  more  hot  Scotch  than  it's  Holland 
gin  or  Nantes  brandy,  but  it's  better  than  their  other  liquors, 
because  it  has  not  so  much  fusil  oil  in  it,  and  it  won't  lay  a  fel 
low  out  cold  so  quick." 

The  hot  Scotch  was  brought.  It  recommended  itself  to 
Luther's  palate,  as  it  was  well  sweetened  ;  and  besides,  his 
nerves  had  received  such  a  shaking  that  a  little  stimulus  was 
almost  necessary  to  steady  them,  and  enable  him  to  quietly 
relate  all  that  he  had  seen  and  heard. 

As  may  be  imagined,  not  for  an  instant  did  either  Luther 
or  the  Captain  fail  to  keep  an  eye  upon  the  door  of  Mr. 
Roset's  saloon.  People  came  and  went,  but  no  sign  for  a 
long  time  of  either  of  the  three  conspirators.  It  began  to 
grow  late  in  the  afternoon.  An  hour  later  and  it  would  be 
too  dark,  perhaps,  to  recognize  their  persons  ;  at  least  from 
so  great  a  distance  as  the  side  window  of  Mr.  O'Reilley's 
"sample-room." 

Might  it  not  be  that  there  was  some  back-way  by  which 
they  had  made  their  exit  ?  No,  there  they  were  at  last — all 
three  of  them. 

Luther  and  the  Captain  jumped  to  their  feet,  and  pre 
pared  to  follow  them,  keeping  as  much  out  of  sight  and  as 
far  in  the  distance  as  possible. 

A  few  blocks  and  the  three  men  turned  a  corner  and 
were  out  of  sight.  Luther  and  the  Captain  hurried  their 
steps,  and  were  just  in  time  to  see  them  turning  the  next 


ijIO  NEVER    AGAIN. 

corner  of  the  block  and  then  the  next,  so  as  to  bring  them 
again  into  Wooster  Street. 

Increasing  their  pace,  the  pursuers  caught  a  glimpse  of 
Mons.  Brochu  ascending  the  steps  of  one  of  a  row  of  old- 
fashioned,  dilapidated  houses,  while  his  companions  sauntered 
on  for  some  distance,  turned  deliberately,  walked  back  to 
the  same  house,  mounted  the  steps  and  entered  without 
pausing,  the  door  seeming  to  open  of  itself. 

"  It  beats  the  forty  thieves,"  was  the  Captain's  comment. 
"  I  wonder  if  open  sesame  is  the  word." 

Luther  and  the  Captain  took  a  good  view  of  the  house 
from  one  corner.  Then  went  round  the  block  and  took  a 
good  view  from  the  other  corner.  It  grew  darker,  and  they 
decided  that  there  could  be  no  harm  in  strolling  past  the 
door. 

The  house  was  one  of  six — all  occupied  except  one, 
the  last  of  the  row,  upon  which  there  was  a  bill. 

The  Captain  stepped  up  to  a  man  picking  over  a  pile  of 
rotten  cabbage  belonging  to  the  corner  grocery — evidently 
a  German.  In  fact  he  could  hardly  be  anything  else  but 
a  German,  for  it  is  a  curious  truth,  and  one  well  worthy 
the  careful  consideration  of  the  Ethnographical  Society, 
that  the  German  has  almost  entirely  superseded  the  Irishman 
in  the  corner-grocery  business.  Time  was  when  the  Celtic 
element  was  supreme ;  when  every  corner  was  surrendered 
to  the  busy  brogue  of  Milesian  enterprise  and  activity; 
when  the  angles  of  every  block  were  smoothed  off,  and  filled 
in  with  rounds  of  inviting  corned  beef,  and  piles  of  ap 
pealing  potatoes  ;  when  the  association  of  ideas  in  the  case 
of  the  Green  Isle  and  green  groceries  was  supposed  to  have 
its  foundation  deep  down  in  the  essence  of  universal  hu 
manity — in  the  very  ultimate  and  absolute  nature  of  things. 
But  now  all  is  changed.  The  Teuton  has  come.  He  squats 
by  the  Celt,  and  the  latter  can  no  more  bear  the  contact 
than  the  Indian  can  the  touch  of  the  Anglo-Saxon.  He  finds 
himself  undersold,  out-worked,  used  up,  and  driven  out  from 
his  corner  in  a  shower  of  sausages  and  sauerkraut  and  lager, 


NEVER  AGAIN.  511 

with  nothing  but  his  bottle  of  whiskey  to  protect  him  from 
the  peltings  of  the  pitiless  storm.  Henceforth  he  must  seek 
other  fields  of  labor.  The  corner  grocery  is  as  irrevocably 
a  German  conquest  as  Strasburg  or  Metz. 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  what  rent  they  ask  for 
that  vacant  house?"  demanded  the  Captain. 

"  Vacant  house  !  nein,  nein,  there  bees  not  some  vacant 
house  there  this  time.  Maybe  ten  days  go  by  there  bees 
one." 

"  Why  there  is  a  bill  upon  one  of  them." 

"  Bill !  There  is  ?  Well,  I  it  not  seen  him.  I  tink  he  put 
has  been  on  to-day." 

"  Well,  the  house  that  was  to  rent  a  few  days  ago.  Who 
has  taken  that  ?" 

"  Ich  weiss  nicht.  I  not  know.  I  not  seen  have  some 
body  to  go  in  or  to  come  out.  All  I  say,  they  don't  buy  much 
at  this  shop." 

Not  a  doubt  remained.  That  was  the  house,  but  nothing 
was  to  be  gained  by  standing  looking  at  the*  outside  of  it, 
especially  as  it  was  getting  dark,  and  inasmuch  as  it  would 
take  at  least  half  an  hour  to  change  their  clothes  and  to  get 
themselves  in  trim  for  Miss  Jones'  dinner-table. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

What  can  be  done  ? — The  Captain's  proposition — The  question  of  Arms 
— The  amenities  of  Journalism. 

IT  was  with  a  good  deal  of  reluctance  that  both  Luther  and 
the  Captain  turned  back  into  Bleecker  Street.  They 
would  have  liked  to  enter  the  house  by  main  force, — it  was 
probably  the  only  way  they  could  have  entered  it, — and  then 
and  there  make  a  thorough  search  for  what  they  firmly  believed 
to  be  concealed  in  it — the  old  woman.  But  it  was  too  evident 
that  the  effort  would  be  the  sheerest  folly,  and  in  the  end 
defeat  the  object  they  had  at  heart.  A  premature  alarm  was, 
above  all  things,  to  be  avoided.  They  had  succeeded  beyond 
all  expectation  in  tracing  so  soon  the  villains  to  their  hiding- 
place.  Any  further  efforts  must  be  decided  upon  in  council 
with  Mr.  Whoppers  and  Mr.  Boggs,  who,  as  we  have  seen, 
were  to  meet  them  and  hear  their  report  that  evening  in  the 
Editor's  room. 

The  reader  may  think  that  it  must  have  been  a  very  easy 
and  simple  thing  to  decide  upon  the  next  movements  in  the 
game.  Rush  off  at  once  to  some  Judge,  Justice,  the  Chief  of 
Police,  or  some  officer  or  other,  and  get  a  warrant  or  order  or 
some  other  kind  of  document,  and  give  it  to  some  policeman, 
or  detective,  or  constable,  or  some  myrmidon  of  justice  or 
other,  and  go  and  make  those  fellows  give  up  the  old  woman 
at  once.  Not  quite  so  easy. 

Luther  had  had  something  to  do  with  the  police  in  the 
matter  already,  and  he  had  not  been  at  all  satisfied  with  the 
result.  The  fact  is,  as  Mr.  Whoppers  suggested,  the  detective 


NEVER  AGAIN.  513 

system  has  got  to  be — we  won't  say  corrupt — that  perhaps 
would  be  doing  great  injustice  to  many  very  worthy  men, — but 
such  a  money-making  system,  that,  without  being  able  to  man 
age  the  ropes  and  grease  the  wheels,  it  was  difficult  to  set  the 
machinery  a  going,  or  to  make  it  work  with  any  rapidity  or 
certainty  when  started. 

Besides,  the  system,  even  when  doing  its  best,  did  not 
happen  at  that  time  to  be  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  highest 
public  favor.  There  had  recently  been  a  horrible  murder — a 
man  struck  down  at  night  in  his  own  house  on  one  of  the  most 
public  thoroughfares,  and  although  immense  rewards  had 
been  offered  for  the  detection  of  the  criminal  not  the  slighest 
clue  had  been  discovered.  An  unusual  number  of  dead 
bodies  had  been  found  floating  in  the  Hudson  and  East  rivers, 
but  in  no  case  had  the  police  taken  any  effective  steps  to 
unravel  the  mystery.  The  public,  without  going  quite  so  far, 
perhaps,  as  a  venerable  and  distinguished  member  of  the  bar 
and  of  society,  who  maintains  that  the  murders  in  New  York 
average  at  least  one  in  every  twenty-four  hours,  had  begun  to 
believe  that  a  large  proportion  of  the  worst  crimes  the  police 
were  either  disinclined  or  unable  to  prevent  or  detect. 

And  Luther  had  in  this  case  very  little  to  go  upon.  If  he 
entered  a  complaint,  or  applied  for  a  search-warrant  or  order 
of  arrest,  he  had  really  so  little  to  show,  except  his  own  sus 
picions,  that  it  was  evident,  when  his  statements  were  reduced 
to  the  dry  and  formal  language  of  a  legal  declaration  or 
affidavit,  the  police  would  make  no  move  until  they  had  sup 
plemented  his  complaint  by  their  own  perquisitions  and 
investigations.  This  would  take  time,  and  besides  there 
would  be  the  risk  of  alarming  the  conspirators,  while  the  life 
of  Madame  Steignitz,  supposing  her  to  be  living  and  in  their 
power,  might  be  instantly  sacrificed  in  their  efforts  to  conceal 
the  crime. 

What  then  could  be  done  ? 

The  Captain  made  a  characteristic  proposition. 

"  We  want  to  get  into  that  house,  and  see  if  we  can  find 
the  old  woman.  If  we  find  her  there  we  are  all  right,  no 


5!4  NEVER  AGAIN. 

matter  how  we  get  in.  If  we  don't  find  her  we  shall  be  all 
wrong.  But  we  have  good  motives  to  plead,  and  they  won't 
be  too  hard  upon  us.  And  it  often  happens  that  in  this  life 
you  have  to  take  some  risk.  When  the  rocks  are  right  under 
your  lee,  in  a  heavy  gale,  what  can  you  do?  You  haven't 
room  to  ware,  and  you  know  devilish  well  that  if  you  try  to 
tack  ship,  you  will  miss  stays.  Weil,  there  is  nothing  to  do 
but  to  clubhaul  her;  but  I  tell  you  what,  it  is  ticklish  busi 
ness — just  touch  and  go.  If  you  don't  chop  your  cable  at  the 
right  instant,  and  pay  her  head  off  on  t'other  tack,  you're  down 
upon  the  rocks  in  no  time,  with  masts  overboard,  bulwarks 
carried  away,  and  with  your  keel,  kelson,  garboard  streaks 
and  futtocks  ground  out  of  you  in  about  five  minutes.  You 
have  to  take  risks  sometimes ;  you  can't  help  it.  Now  sup 
pose  that  I  pick  up  half-a-dozen  of  the  Spoondrift's  crew.  I 
know  where  to  find  'em.  All  I  have  to  do  is  to  go  down  to 
Joe  Jigger's  dance-house,  and  there  I  can  put  my  hand  upon 
any  one  of  'em  ;  they  havn't  had  time  to  spend  all  their 
money  yet,  and  get  kicked  out.  Well,  we  will  take  and  saw 
off  about  six  or  eight  feet  from  the  butt  end  of  a  spare  top- 
gallantmast — lash  a  hand-rope  along  on  either  side,  so  that 
half-a-dozen  men  can  pick  it  up  and  swing  it  easily.  We'll 
put  this  on  a  cart  and  drive  up  to  the  house.  The  men  will 
come  along  at  the  same  instant ;  each  one  will  jump  and 
seize  his  lanyard,  and  all  rush  up  the  steps  with  the  battering- 
ram  ;  heave  with  a  will  my  hearties  !  one,  two,  bang  !  a  single 
blow,  and  in  goes  the  door  smashed  all  to  flinders.  We  fol 
low  pell-mell,  and  spread  ourselves  all  over  the  house.  If 
we  find  the  old  woman,  well  and  good;  if  we  don't,  why  we 
have  committed  flat  burglary,  that's  all.  But  I  don't  think 
they  can  make  a  yard-arm  business  of  it.  They  can't  do 
more  than  tie  us  up  to  the  gratings,  and  I  shouldn't  wonder 
if,  considering  circumstances,  and  character,  and  all  that,  they 
would  let  us  off  with  a  little  moderate  colting  of  some  kind. 
The  only  thing  is  I  don't  see  the  use  of  more  than  one  of  us 
being  concerned,  and  so  if  it  suits  you  I  will  take  the  whole 
matter  on  my  shoulders." 


NEVER  AGAIN.  515 

The  Captain's  proposition  was  received  with  thanks  and 
compliments  upon  its  boldness,  its  ingenuity,  and  generosity. 

"  Charming  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers.  "  Splendid !  in 
fact,  considering  that  first  smash,  it  would  be  really  a//<?rable ; 
but  you  mustn't  forget  how  soon  a  crowd  is  collected  in  New 
York.  We  shouldn't  have  time  to  look  through  the  first-floor 
rooms,  supposing  that  we  met  with  no  opposition  inside, — and 
we  may  well  calculate  upon  that, — before  you  have  the  house 
filled  with  ruffians  and  loafers  of  every  class,  and  in  five  min 
utes  you  might  have  cases  of  robbery,  homicide  and  arson 
added  to  your  indictment  for  forcible  entry  and  illegal  search 
and  seizure." 

Mr.  Boggs  had  been  sitting  for  some  time  seemingly 
wholly  occupied  in  stroking  his  long  goatee,  which  graceful 
amusement  was  sometimes  varied  by  an  effort  to  bend  down, 
and  catch  in  his  teeth,  the  ends  of  his  mustache. 

Mr.  Whoppers  turned  to  him  appealingly. 

Mr.  Boggs  took  a  final  vicious  bite  at  the  ends  of  his  mus 
tache,  and  roused  himself  from  his  fit  of  mental  abstraction, 
or  rather  perhaps  it  would  be  more  correct  to  say,  of  mental 
concentration. 

"  It  won't  do ;  but  I  have  a  plan  that  will,  he  exclaimed. 
There  is  a  vacant  house  in  the  row.  No  one  knows  me,  and 
no  one  will  suspect  me.  I  will  go  to-morrow  and  hire  that 
house.  I  suppose  they  will  rent  it  by  the  month.  The 
owner  or  agent  will  jump  to  the  conclusion  that  I  take  it  for 
some  female  friend.  It  is  well  known  that  there  is  more  than 
one  fellow  in  our  club  who  is  interested  in  private  lodgings  in 
out-of-the-way  streets.  I'll  let  him  think  so.  Well,  don't  you 
see,  once  in  possession  of  the  house,  we  can  operate  from  it  in 
precisely  the  same  way  as  we  suppose  Monsieur  Brochu  and  his 
friends  to  have  done  in  the  case  of  Madame  Steignitz.  We 
can  enter  their  house  at  night,  over  the  roof,  through  the  dormer 
window,  and  perhaps  be  able  to  carry  her  off  in  the  same  way." 

"  Good ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers.  "  I  like  that;  it  is 
upon  the  principle  of  a  hair  of  the  dog,  etc.  It's  strictly 
according  to  the  lex  talionis,  and  it's  scriptural  too;  'an  eye 


516  NEVER  AGAIN, 

for  an  eye,  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth  ;'  an  old  woman  for  an  old 
woman ;  en&vement  pour  enlevement,  as  she  would  say  in  her 
own  language." 

"  But  I  don't  see  how  we  can  get  over  the  roofs  without 
alarming  the  inmates  of  the  intervening  houses,"  said  Luther. 

"  Oh,  pooh !  There  is  no  difficulty  about  that ;  it's  just  a 
case  of  '  Still  so  gently  o'er  me  stealing.'  We  can  step  noise 
less  as  the  foot  of  Time,  when  he  only  treads  on  flowers.  We 
won't  creep  along  the  eaves,  and  affront  the  dormer 
windows ;  eaves-dropping  is  disreputable,  you  know.  We 
must  just  slip  out  of  our  window,  give  one  wild,  ringing 
cheer  of  Excelsior,  and  mount  to  the  ridge-pole.  Luckily,  it 
is  not  a  steep  affair.  It  won't  be  so  hard  to  climb  as  '  the  steep 
where  Fame's  proud  temple  shines  afar.'  Once  there,  we  will 
ride  as  on  a  rail,  not  quite  so  fast  and  furious  as  an  old  fish- 
woman  on  a  rail,  but  slow  and  sure,  '  astride  the  anticlinal 
slopes  of  great  events.'  We  arrive  at  the  house — facilis 
descensus,  you  know — we  drop  down  upon  them  like  a  dew-drop 
from  a  lion's  mane.  Oh  !  I'm  for  Mr.  Boggs'  plan." 

"  But,"  objected  the  Captain,  "  we  just  as  much  make  an 
illegal  and  burglarious  entry  by  breaking  in  at  the  dormer  win 
dow  as  by  breaking  in  at  a  door,  and  are  just  as  responsible 
for  the  homicide  that  may  follow,  and  that  probably  will  follow ; 
for  these  fellows  will  show  fight." 

"  Ah,  but  we  have  a  chance  of  making  our  perquisitions  in 
private,  and  perhaps  of  finding  the  old  woman  and  carrying 
her  off  without  any  row,"  replied  Mr.  Boggs.  "  That  chance 
is  worth  something." 

"That  is  true,"  replied  the  Captain,  "and  I  don't  oppose 
the  plan,  but  we  must  be  prepared  for  all  events.  There  is 
no  use  of  blinking  the  fact  that  the  service  is  one  of  difficulty 
and  danger.  I  have  seen  Monsieur  Brochu  and  his  compan 
ions,  and  I  am  much  mistaken  if  they  are  not  about  as  ugly 
customers  as  can  be  found  in  the  city.  Shall  we  go  armed  ? " 

The  Captain's  question  led  to  a  long  discussion,  in  which 
all  the  arguments  on  either  side  were  fully  examined,  and  finally 
it  was  decided  that  it  would  be  best  not  to  carry  pistols  01 


NEVER  AGAIN.  c;I7 

knives  ;  that  they  might  put  themselves  terribly  in  the  wrong 
by  using  deadly  weapons,  afnd  that  knuckle-dusters  and  police 
men's  bludgeons  would  be  all  that  it  would  be  best  to  allow 
themselves. 

"'Tis  the  wisest  way,"  concluded  the  Captain.  "There  is 
a  terrible  temptation  to  use  a  pistol  or  a  knife  unnecessarily 
sometimes.  I  have  known  an  officer  rush  for  his  pistol  and 
shoot  two  or  three  men  simply  because  he  had  it  capped  and 
loaded  all  loose  at  the  head  of  his  berth,  whereas  if  he  had 
had  it  locked  up,  unloaded,  in  his  chest  he  would  just  have  con 
tented  himself  with  a  belaying-pin  or  marling-spike,  and  ended 
the  muss  with  a  few  knock-downs  that  would  hardly  have  hurt 
a  sucking  infant ;  and  besides,"  he  continued,  "  we  ought  not 
to  need  the  pistols.  Here's  Luther,  young  and  active,  and 
wiry  as  a  panther,  and  I  understand  that  with  the  gloves  on 
he  can  take  the  kinks  out  of  some  of  the  best  men  they've  got 
at  the  gymnasium.  Then,  here's  Mr.  Boggs.  I  am  a  pretty 
good  judge  of  thews  and  sinews,  and  there  is  an  easy  length 
of  limb  and  a  depth  of  chest  there  that  mean  a  monstrous 
sight  of  work,  I  guess,  at  a  short  call ;  and  as  to  Mr.  Whop 
pers — well,  Whoppers,  your  frame  was  not  got  out  for  a  double- 
decker,  but  I  suspect  you  can  carry  a  good  deal  more  than 
your  measured  tonnage.  I  should  doubt  a  little  whether  your 
backstays  were  as  well  set  up  as  they  might  be,  but  you're 
pretty  well  sparred,  and  they  do  say  that  when  you  flogged  the 
fighting  editor  of  the  New  York  Hurly-Burly  you  made  a 
handsome  job  of  it,  and  finished  him  off  in  first-rate  style." 

"  Oh,  belay  that,  Captain.  You  make  me  blush  before 
Boggs  and  Luther  here." 

'•  Oh  no,  it  was  the  other  fellow  that  blushed.  I  hap 
pened  to  mention  your  name  to  Mr.  Mills,  my  first  mate, 
yesterday,  when  he  said  that  he  saw  the  whole  thing.  He 
was  in  Wall  Street  at  the  time.  He  says  that  the  way  you 
sailed  into  your  enemy  was  a  sight  for  the  curious.  If 
Barnum  could  have  bought  it  and  put  it  in  his  museum,  it 
would  have  been  worth  five  thousand  dollars  to  him.  Mills 
says  that  he  at  first  thought  the  other  fellow  was  going  to 


518  NEVER   AGAIN. 

weather  on  you  when  he  hit  you  a  sockdologer  on  the  mug, 
but  you  boxed  off  a  little,  and  then  sprung  your  luff,  got  your 
grappling-irons  on  his  throat,  bore  him  down  on  to  his  beam- 
ends,  and  then  flourished  your  feet  and  fists  like  a  regular 
artist,  and  in  about  half  a  minute  after  you  had  boarded  him 
you  had  put  his  dead  eyes  in  and  painted  a  black  streak 
under  them ;  had  worked  a  Turk's  head  on  his  nose  as  big 
as  a  lemon  ;  had  smashed  in  his  head  rails  and  started  two  or 
three  of  them  down  his  progway.  Mr.  Mills  says  that  the 
blood  ran  from  his  scuppers  like  a  sluice  from  a  tan-yard  or 
a  Cincinnati  pork-mill,  and  that  in  the  half  minute  you  had 
his  head  careened  down  over  the  curb-stone  it  colored  the 
gutter  from  Trinity  Church  to  Pearl  Street." 

"  Mr.  Mills  is  a — a — d — d —  Well,  I  won't  say  what 
Mr.  Mills  is,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers  in  a  tone  that 
showed  he  by  no  means  relished  the  Captain's  comical  ex 
aggerations.  In  fact  it  was  a  sore  subject,  and  any  allusion 
to  it  was  apt  to  disturb  the  usual  serenity  of  his  temper.  It 
is  often  observed  that  no  people  more  readily  wince  under  any 
little  rubbing  of  their  sore  spots  than  those  who  are  forever 
seeking  out  and  touching  up  the  raws  of  their  neighbors. 

"  Beg  pardon.     I  meant  no  offence,"  replied  the  Captain. 

"  Oh,  no  offence  !  "  replied  Mr.  Whoppers.  "  A  fellow  is 
bound  to  make  a  devilish  fool  of  himself  some  time  in  his 
life  ;  but  it  isn't  always  the  pleasantest  subject  of  conver 
sation  afterwards." 

"  But  I  don't  see  that  it  was  such  a  foolish  business.  If 
the  Hurly-Burly  fellow  had  got  the  better  of  you — ah,  in 
that  case  perhaps.  But  tell  us  how  it  came  about." 

"Well,  it's  too  long  a  story  to  go  into  all  the  details. 
You've  all  of  you  heard  of  the  -amenities  of  newspaper  litera 
ture  ? — that  is,  when  one  editor  calls  another — cheat,  liar  and 
villain." 

"  Why,  do  they  ever  do  that?  "  demanded  the  Captain  in 
a  tone  of  surprise. 

"Sometimes,  but  it  is  considered  bad  taste  to  use  the 
naked  words.  The  better  style  is  do  it  by  implication,  or 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


519 


what  you  may  call  the  roundabout  or  circumlocutory  process  ; 
as  for  instance,  instead  of  calling  a  man  a  thief,  you  begin  an 
article  on  'Kleptomania  in  general.'  Show  that  it  is  not  a 
new  disease,  but  that  it  was  known  to  the  ancients,  and  that 
it  was  clearly  alluded  to  by  Celsus  in  one  of  his  eight  books 
de  medirina ;  that  it  was  also  described,  in  more  modern 
times,  by  the  great  Boerhaave,  and  by  the  famous  Fabricius  ab 
Aquapendente  in  his  treatise  dc  furtivis.  You  then  suggest 
a  hospital  for  the  treatment  of  patients  afflicted  with  that  dis 
ease,  from  which  category,  however,  you  of  course  except 
cases  like  that  of  the  editor  of  the  Flipper.  For  his  case  there 
is  already  a  capital  asylum  established  at  Sing  Sing,  where  the 
Autolycus  of  the  press  would  find  a  suitable  regime,  and  where 
the  gentle  exercise  of  cutting  and  carving  a  compound  of 
carbonic  acid  and  lime  might  exert  a  curative  effect  upon  his 
diseased  habits.  At  any  rate,  as  you  suggest,  that  is  his  only 
chance,  for  it  is  well  known  that  when  total  depravity  assumes 
the  continuous  type  characterized  by  one  universal  and  never 
ending  exacerbation,  the  prescriptions  of  a  criminal  judge,  or 
police  magistrate,  are  always  infinitely  more  efficacious  than 
those  of  any  physician. 

Or  suppose  you  want  to  accuse  a  fellow  of  lying,  begin 
in  this  wise,  as  far  off  as  possible:  'It  is  generally  admit 
ted  that  Plutarch's  works  on  morals  are  far  inferior  to 
his  lives  of  distinguished  ancients.  But  even  as  a  mor 
alist,  although  accused  of  entertaining  erroneous  doctrines, 
superstitious  fancies,  and  puerile  and  even  disgusting 
sentiments,  he  sometimes  makes  a  remark  of  singular  pro 
fundity.  As  for  instance,  in  his  life  of  Lysander  he  says 
that  to  lie  is  to  manifest  both  a  contempt  of  God  and  a  fear 
of  man.  Now  this  suggests  a  question  we  would  like  to  ask 
the  United  States  Radiator,  hoping  that  an  answer — if  answer 
is  vouchsafed — will  for  once  in  the  way  be  given  with  some 
of  that  regard  to  the  decencies  of  language  which  we  are 
proud  to  say  has  ever  characterized  the  columns  of  this  jour 
nal.  And  our  question  is  this:  "Did  the  Editor  of  the 
Radiator,  in  his  recent  passage  of  senile  declamation,  evince  a 


520  NEVER  AGAIN. 

greater  contempt  of  God  than  fear  of  man,  or  a  greater  fear 
of  man  than  contempt  of  God?  " 

"  Or,  you  can  begin  with  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  or  Lord 
Bacon,  or  Jeremy  Taylor,  or  Montaigne.  Something  in  this 
style:  'What  a  vivid  idea  of  the  atrocious  cruelty  that  char 
acterized  the  Spanish  conquest  of  America  do  we  get  when 
we  find  that  Montaigne,  who  lived  and  wrote  so  short  a  time 
after  the  great  discovery  in  1492,  is  compelled  to  apologize 
for  not  giving  the  names  of  certain  nations,  whose  laws  and 
customs  he  has  occasion  to  mention.  And  his  excuse  is, 
that  the  desolation  of  that  conquest  had  extended  to  the 
utter  abolition  of  names.  Only  the  fraction  of  a  century,  and 
the  pall  of  oblivion  is  drawn  by  the  cruel  hands  of  greed  and 
bigotry  over  the  very  places  where  they  existed.  Luckily, 
some  memory  of  their  laws  and  customs  remained  in  the 
time  of  the  great  essayist,  and  he  has  happily  recorded  them 
for  us.  Among  others,  he  especially  mentions  one — a  curious 
religious  ceremony — the  offering  to  their  gods  of  human 
blood,  but  blood  drawn  only  from  the  ears  and  tongue  in 
expiation  of  the  sin  of  lying.  What  a  curious,  but  what  a 
lucky  thing  for  some  of  us,  but  especially  for  our  friend  and 
neighbor,  the  Editor  of  the  New  York  Comet,  that  we  live  in 
a  country  where  no  such  sacrifice  is  required.  In  his  case, 
crapulous  tongue  however  crass,  and  pendulous  ears  however 
long,  would  hardly  contain  blood  enough  to  expiate  the  sins 
of  a  single  issue,  or  to  appease  the  manes  of  whole  hosts  of 
murdered  truths  who  stalk  in  indignant  and  ghastly  ghostli- 
ness  through  his  columns.  We  are  afraid  that  it  would  be 
found  necessary  to  tap  that  rubicund  proboscis,  and  let  out 
some  of  that  blood  which,  as  it  is  the  product  of  libations,  or 
potations  rather,  of  old  rye  and  Bourbon,  in  common  fairness, 
perhaps,  ought  to  be  devoted  only  to  the  altars  of  Bacchus.' 

"  Now  that,"  continued  Mr.  Whoppers,  "is  the  true  way  to 
do  it.  Thief,  liar,  and  rascal,  is  decidedly  vulgar  and  of  no 
force.  We  don't  really  reach  our  adversary  with  such  shot. 
I  had  been  called  all  those  epithets  by  the  Hurly-Burly 
over  and  over  again.  I  didn't  mind  it ;  I  just  conformed  to 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


521 


the  amenities  of  journalism,  and  dug  away  at  him  in  the 
circumlocutory  style ;  sticking  a  pun  into  him  now  and  then, 
and  whipping  him  up,  whenever  he  slopped  over,  with  a  Latin 
quotation  or  two.  At  last  he  struck  a  little  harder.  He 
called  me, — what  do  you  suppose?  A  paranomastical  pre 
tender  ;  said  that  I  had  never  made  a  decent  pun  ;  and  that 
just  after  we  had  been  dining  together,  and  I  had  let  off 
half-a-dozen  of  my  very  best.  He  said  that  I  had  entirely 
mistaken  the  aphorism  about  punning  and  pocket-picking,  and 
that  I  must  not  suppose  that,  because  I  had  frequently  been 
caught  at  the  one,  I  had  any  talent  for  the  other.  It  was 
cutting  pretty  close,  but  you  won't  suppose  that,  for  such  a 
cause,  I  made  an  infernal  fool  of  myself,  and  resorted  to  per 
sonal  violence.  No,  it  was  something  more  aggravating  than 
that.  It  was  just  the  one  single  thing  that  no  editor  can  stand. 
He  said  that  my  circulation  had  fallen  off — that  it  never  had 
amounted  to  much  ;  in  fact,  that  if  I  had  my  deserts,  I  ought 
to  be  indicted  for  swindling  my  poor,  deluded  advertisers,  and 
obtaining  their  money  under  false  pretences.  That  was  right 
on  the  raw.  I  not  only  winced,  but  fairly  kicked  over  the 
traces,  and  down  I  rushed,  and  pitched  into  him.  But 
enough  of  that  subject.  I  don't  like  to  think  of  it,  still  less  to 
talk  about  it ;  so  we  will  go  back  to  the  question  of  arms.  I 
agree  with  you,  Captain,  that  it  will  be  best  for  us  to  go 
unarmed,  and  that  four  of  us  ought  to  be  able  to  manage  any 
three  desperadoes  in  town." 

It  required  but  little  further  discussion  to  settle  their  plan 
of  operations  so  far  as  any  plan  could  be  settled  beforehand. 
Only  one  thing  could  be  decidedly  determined  at  the  time,  and 
that  was,  Mr.  Boggs  was  to  secure  the  vacant  house  at  an 
early  hour  in  the  morning,  and  that  at  night  they  were  to  com 
mence  operations  and  be  governed  by  circumstances. 

"  Let  us  hope  for  darkness,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers,  as 
the  party  broke  up  at  a  late  hour.  "  Not  that  our  deeds  are 
evil.  '  Merker  the  night  the  better  tyde  for  love,'  says  old 
Rowley  ;  but  I  say,  '  merker  the  night  the  better  tyde  for  loafing 
round  chimney-pots  and  peering  into  dormer  windows. ' ' 


522  NEVER  AGAIN. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

Boggs  hires  a  House — Uncle  Shippen's  Lecture — The  Nature  and  Origin 

of  Evil. 

IT  is  a  curious  fact  that  if  we  go  to  sleep  with  the  mind  fully 
charged  with  the  idea  that  some  necessity  exists  for  our 
waking  at  an  hour  earlier  than  our  usual  habit,  the  mind 
seldom  forgets  to  call  itself  at  the  right  time.  When  we  trust 
to  an  alarm-clock,  or  to  the  services  of  a  domestic  or  night- 
watchman,  it  is  true  we  are,  if  through  accident  or  neglect 
undisturbed,  apt  to  oversleep  ourselves.  But  that  is  because 
we  have  not  entered  in  a  legible  hand  on  the  innermost  leaves 
of  memory  the  hour  at  which  we  wish  to  be  awakened,  and 
have  trusted  to  outward  forces  rather  than  to  the  unconscious 
cerebration  which  goes  on  perhaps  more  actively  in  a  sleeping 
than  in  a  waking  state. 

Mr.  Boggs  seldom  had  occasion  to  be  called  at  an  early 
hour,  but  his  internal  monitor  was  alert  and  punctual.  He 
was  up,  dressed,  and  out  by  nine  o'clock.  For  a  society-man, 
and  one,  too,  who  fully  coincided  in  opinion  with  Uncle 
Shippen  on  the  subject  of  sleep,  nine  may  be  considered 
wonderfully  early.  In  fact  too  early,  if  it  is,  as  Uncle  Shippen 
maintains,  the  absolute  duty  of  every  man  who  can  to  sleep 
up  to  his  constitution.  That  is,  he  ought  to  stop  sleeping 
only  just  long  enough  to  allow  his  assimilative  and  absorbent 
functions  fair  play.  "  For  don't  you  see,"  says  Uncle  Shippen, 
"  life  is  justly  defined  to  be  nothing  more  or  less  than  an 
effort  of  force  to  reveal  itself  in  consciousness.  Now  this 
effort  is  a  wearing  and  a  tearing  one,  and  life  is  short  in 
consequence.  But  in  sleep  this  effort  is  partially  or  wholly 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


523 


suspended  ;  there  is  no  consciousness  then,  and  the  conse 
quence  is  that  the  more  you  sleep  the  longer  you  live.1' 

It  was  not  always  safe  to  say  when  Uncle  Shippen  was 
joking,  and  when  in  earnest,  but  Mr.  Boggs  had  accepted 
his  aphorism,  that  it  was  proper  for  a  man  to  sleep  up  to  his 
constitution,  and  was  always  astonished,  and  somewhat 
chagrined,  and  more  than  half  determined  to  try  a  little  hy 
drate  of  chloral,  when  he  was  up  and  out  before  twelve. 

Mr.  Mealy  was  luckily  at  home,  and  negotiation  for  the 
vacant  house  was  unusually  short.  Mr.  Boggs'  reference  to 
the  portly  sexton  of  Grace  Church  was  satisfactory,  especially 
as  the  rent  was  to  be  paid  monthly  in  advance.  There  was 
only  a  little  delay  of  fifteen  minutes,  and  that  was  required 
for  Mr.  Mealy's  protestations,  made  over  and  over  again,  that 
he  would  not  for  the  world  let  the  house  for  any  improper 
purposes,  or  to  any  improper  characters  ;  that  he  never  did 
let  his  houses  to  any  but  the  most  respectable  persons.  In  a 
few  cases  he  may  have  been  deceived.  He  could  not  always 
help  being  deceived ;  no  one  could.  In  fact,  there  were  two 
or  three  wealthy  house-owners  in  his  own  church  who  had  been 
deceived,  but  as  long  as  a  house  was  let  with  pure  intentions, 
the  inmates,  however  abandoned,  might  perhaps  be  made  the 
subject  of  prayer,  but  could  not  very  well  be  turned  out.  He 
had  heard  of  some  wicked  people  who  evaded  the  statute  by 
selling  a  house  to  an  improper  female,  and  then  taking  back  a 
mortgage  for  the  purchase-money.  There  is  no  law  against 
collecting  interest  on  a  mortgage  from  whatever  source.  But 
that  is  a  subterfuge,  an  evasion  of  the  law.  No  right-minded 
and  pious  person  could  be  guilty  of  it.  He,  at  least,  could 
not,  and  therefore  he  never  let  any  of  his  houses  except  to 
respectable  persons.  And  he  was  satisfied  that  in  this  case 
he  was  getting  a  respectable  tenant.  The  mere  mention  of 
Mr.  Brown's  name  was  sufficient.  He  knew  Brown  ;  he  had 
bought  horse-feed  from  him,  and  Mr.  Brown  had  buried  his 
brother-in-law's  first  cousin  in  highly-respectable  style.  Had 
never  seen  the  ashes-to -ashes  and  dust-to-dust  part  of  the  per 
formance  done  more  splendidly  ;  and  the  coffin — beg  pardon 


524 


.V/.T/.Yv'  AGAIN. 


those  old-fashioned  words  will  slip  out  sometimes — the  casket 
was  of  such  beautifully  polished  rose  wood,  and  the  handles, 
hinges,  screw-heads,  and  all  of  the  finest  Gorham  plate.  Mr. 
Boggs  couldn't  have  given  a  better  reference.  Everybody 
knows  that  Mr.  Brown  has  to  do  only  with  our  \erybest  and 
most  fashionable  people.  Not  that  he  should  refer  to  him, 
because  he  was  perfectly  satisfied  that  he  was  letting  his 
house  to  a  gentleman  of  high  character  and  correct  morals. 
It  was  thought  by  many  of  his  friends  that  he  ought,  perhaps, 
to  make  some  inquiry  into  the  religious  sentiments  of  his 
tenants.  But  he  did  not  go  so  far  as  that.  This  is  a  free 
country,  and  liberty  of  conscience  is  guaranteed  by  the  Con 
stitution.  And,  in  fact,  he  had  always  been  something  of 
a  liberal.  He  had  always  contented  himself  with  high 
morality,  and  strict  punctuality,  in  his  tenants,  and  he  didn't 
mind  if  some  of  them  did  go  to  the  little  church  round  the 
corner — ha  !  ha ! 

This  last  piece  of  facetiousness  was  too  much  for  Mr.  Boggs. 
He  seized  the  keys  and  started  for  the  door. 

"  Hold  on  for  a  moment,  and  I  will  go  with  you,  and  put 
you  in  possession." 

"  Not  at  all  necessary.  I  can  unlock  the  doors  myself.  I 
won't  trouble  you." 

"  Prefer  to  move  your  family  in  without  observation  ?  All 
nice  and  quiet,  eh !  Well,  I  hope  your  wife  will  be  pleased 
with  the  house.  His  wife  indeed,"  continued  Mr.  Mealy, 
turning  to  his  clerk.  "  He  thinks  I  don't  know  him,  but  I  do. 
He's  a  fashionable  man,  and  as  big  a  sinner  as  there  is  in 
town." 

The  house  proved  to  be  dilapidated,  dirty,  and  generally 
disgusting.  Mr.  Boggs  made  a  thorough  survey,  from  the  cellar 
to  the  garret.  From  the  lower  apartment  he  was  glad  to 
retreat  on  the  double  quick,  driven  out  by  the  fierce  stench  of 
piles  of  decaying  kitchen  refuse.  A  sickening  perfume — an 
indescribable  odor  of  something  which  addressed  itself,  per 
haps,  as  much  to  the  imagination  as  the  senses — pervaded 
the  upper  rooms.  The  gaudy  wall-paper  of  the  parlors  hung 


NEVER  AGAIN.  525 

here  and  there  in  strips.  It  bore  the  marks  of  dirt)7  hands, 
and  the  scratches  of  roughly-handled  tables  and  sofas,  and  the 
indentations  of  tilted  up  chairs.  It  was  stained  with  cigar 
smoke  and  spattered  and  spotted  with  Champagne  ;  and  all 
around,  about  the  height  of  a  man  when  in  a  sitting  posture, 
it  had  been  smooched  by  dirty  heads  into  a  brown  wainscoting 
of  grease.  A  wide  dark  stain  marked  the  rickety  flooring, 
and  at  every  step  the  boards  squeaked  and  groaned,  as  if  the 
ghosts  of  half-a-dozen  murdered  men  were  gibbering  out  their 
useless  cries  for  vengeance. 

Mr.  Boggs  paused  and  looked  around.  He  was  no  senti 
mentalist,  no  idealist,  no  philanthropist,  no  enthusiast ;  he 
was,  and  prided  himself  on  being,  a  man  of  the  world;  a  man 
who  looked  at  the  facts  of  real  life  in  the  face.  A  man  who 
knew  that  the  world  had,  been  growing  better  very,  very  slowly, 
and,  while  admitting  something  of  progress,  had  no  confidence 
in  the  crude  whimsies  of  rampant  reform.  Yet  when  Mr. 
Boggs  stood  in  the  middle  of  that  room,  and  the  visions  of 
countless  orgies  rose  up  before  him — orgies  characterized  by 
no  refinement,  no  elegance,  no  taste,  but  coarse  and  vulgar  and 
obscene — orgies  of  pure  sensuality  and  sin,  at  which  hundreds 
of  men,  some  of  respectability  and  promise,  had  assisted  ;  and 
when  he  thought  of  the  poor  helpless  victims,  not  of  man's 
faithlessness  and  treachery,  as  the  case  is  usually  put,  but  the 
victims  of  society's  inhumanity  and  unsympathetic  reckless 
ness  ;  the  victims  of  feminine  frivolity  and  vanity  and  prodi 
gality  ;  the  victims  of  the  circumstances  and  surroundings  into 
which  they  were  born — when  Mr.  Boggs  thought  of  this,  and 
of  the  vast  net- work  of  social  evil  with  all  its  consequences, 
physical  and  moral,  immediate  and  remote,  patent  to  all  or 
the  secret  of  the  moralist  and  pathologist,  he  felt  a  little  some 
thing  of  that  intense  contempt  for  existing  institutions,  that 
fierce  burning  desire  to  tear  up  the  whole  social  system  by  the 
roots,  and  replace  it  by  anything  provided  with  the  great  merit 
of  being  something  utterly  different,  and  entirely  new,  which 
characterizes  the  radical  reformer  of  the  day.  He  could  not 
help  it. 


526  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"  And  yet,"  sighed  Mr.  Boggs,  "  what  is  the  use  ?  Why 
disturb  one's  mind  with  ugly  thoughts  to  no  purpose  ?  This 
world  is  probably  the  best  possible  world  that  could  be  under 
the  circumstances.  As  Uncle  Shippen  says,  considering  that 
it  is  an  inferior  member  of  probably  a  very  inferior  solar  sys 
tem,  it  is  a  very  good  world."  Mr.  Boggs  took  a  few  turns 
up  and  down  the  room.  He  recurred  to  a  recent  conversa 
tion  with  Uncle  Shippen,  or  rather  to  several  conversations, 
for  Uncle  Shippen  was  fond  of  getting  upon  such  subjects. 
He  had  his  speculative  hobbies,  gaunt,  shaggy,  ill-fed  fellows, 
not  to  be  compared  with  the  sleek,  smooth  roadsters  of  the  great 
thinkers  of  the  day,  but,  nevertheless,  once  mounted  it  was  im 
possible  to  dismount  him,  and  difficult  to  make  him  draw  rein. 
"  Pain,  sir,  and  sin,  are  the  essential  demerits  of  progress.  With 
out  what  we  call  evil  this  world  would  be,  if  it  could  be  at  all,  a 
miserable  world.  Beg  pardon  for  the  seeming  paradox,  but 
it  is  wholly  owing  to  the  imperfection  of  language.  You  see 
we  are  placed  !  ere  like  a  railroad  train  on  a  set  of  rails.  We 
can't  stand  still  forever — we  must  move ;  we  do  move,  but 
about  every  five  minutes  we  run  off  the  rails,  and  what  is  the 
consequence?  Why  a  smash,  and  that  smash  is  what  we  call 
evil — the  penalty  for  not  sticking  to  the  rails.  We  improve 
the  road-bed  a  little  and  start  again.  Smash,  smash,  smash. 
It  won't  do  ;  we  must  lengthen  our  curves,  ballast  again 
here  and  there,  widen  our  flanges,  couple  up  shorter,  and  oil 
our  axles.  It  goes  better,  but  it  won't  do ;  there  is  a  screw 
loose  somewhere,  and  there  is  consequently  ajar,  shake,  noise, 
and  now  and  then  a  smash.  Find  out  where  it  is,  screw  it  up, 
and  whiz  !  we  should  go  up  and  down  the  grades  of  a  life  of 
perfect  happiness  without  a  jolt. 

"  Inevitable  and  unavoidable  evils,  you  say  ?  Bah  !  sir  ; 
there  is  no  such  thing.  All  alike — the  result  of  ignorance,  but 
much  more  of  carelessness  and  contempt  of  the  simplest  laws. 
Mental,  moral,  and  physical  evil !  All  man's  work,  sir,  directly, 
or  existing  only  by  man's  sufferance.  Talk  of  disease  and 
pain  and  premature  death !  Who's  to  blame,  eh  ?  Say  that 
God  sends  them  !  Why  it's  flat  blasphemy.  Take  disease. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  527 

Nine-tenths  of  disease  come  from  idio  or  koino — private  or  pub 
lic — miasma.  Now  the  disease  that  comes  from  your  private 
miasma — your  typhus  and  ship-fevers,  as  well  as  your  scarlet 
fever  and  small-pox,  and  a  whole  host  of  similar  diseases,  are 
made  and  disseminated  by  society  with  the  most  industrious 
care.  It  creates  or  it  catches  its  miasma,  or  its  nice  little 
germ  of  contagion,  and  prepares  its  hot-bed,  and  nurses  it,  and 
cultivates  it  as  if  it  was  some  lovely  flower.  And  as  for  koiiio 
miasma — what  we  call  malaria,  man  is  wholly  to  blame  there, 
too.  Man  makes  it,  or  tolerates  and  encourages  it,  or  refuses 
the  commonest  precautions  against  its  influence.  The  laws 
of  malaria  are  well  known,  and  Mr.  Planly  has  an  invention 
for  taking  advantage  of  them  in  the  worst  cases,  as  in  Italy 
for  instance,  and  cultivating  the  malaria  out  of  existence.  But 
he's  too  soon,  as  I  told  him,  by  about  a  thousand  years.  Fe 
vers  and  epidemics  of  all  kinds  have  luckily  not  yet  finished 
their  proper  work,  which  is  to  keep  down  and  thin  out  the 
human  race  until  the  reproduction  of  mankind  is  reduced  to 
scientific  rule  and  method.  Why,  do  you  know,  sir,  they  say 
that  every  mouthful  of  air  we  draw  contains  not  only  the 
germs  of  from  fifteen  to  twenty  different  forms  of  cryptoga- 
mous  vegetation,  but  also  a  certain  number  of  starch  grains, 
and  that  not  only  in  the  air  we  actually  breathe,  but  in  the  air 
we  might  breathe  standing  up  on  the  top  of  the  Peak  of  Ten- 
eriffe  or  Chimborazo.  Now  did  God  put  these  starch  grains 
there  directly,  or  did  man  ?  And  if  man,  how  long  a  time  has 
it  taken  him  to  do  it,  and  how  much  flour  has  he  made  to 
enable  him  to  do  it  ?  Don't  you  see  the  question  of  the  an 
tiquity  of  man  comes  up  strong  ?  but  that  isn't  the  point.  A 
third  and  more  pertinent  question  is,  If  man  put  those  starch 
grains  there,  why  can't  he  take  'em  out  ?  Do  you  suppose 
that,  a  thousand  years  hence,  when  for  want  of  soil  and  pabu 
lum  most  of  our  diseases  have  died  out  of  existence,  and  when 
men  will  no  more  think  of  breathing  or  drinking  unfiltered  or 
unpurified  air  or  water  than  they  will  of  breeding  consumptive 
or  scrofulous  children,  the  generations  then  existing  will 
look  back  upon  the  manners  and  customs  of  our  day  with  any 


528  WE  VER  A  GA  IN. 

less  contempt  than  we  now  feel  for  the  manners  and  customs 
of  our  ancestors  before  their  tails  were  worn  off,  when  mar 
riage  was  unknown,  and  cannibalism  was  common?" 

In  this  way  Uncle  Shippen  would  ramble  en  whenever  he 
got  a  chance,  and  there  was  no  one  whom  he  liked  to  lecture 
better  than  Mr.  Boggs,  who  had,  as  we  have  said,  a  philo 
sophic  streak  in  his  composition,  which,  combined  with  a 
lazy  streak,  made  him  an  excellent  subject. 

Mr.  Boggs  stopped  short  in  his  work,  and  shook  his  head. 
"  I  am  afraid  it  won't  do,  Uncle  Shippen,"  he  exclaimed 
aloud.  "  The  idea  that  progress  is  necessarily  so  very  slow, 
and  so  much  the  result  of  a  very  gradual  development  under 
the  guidance  of  inexorable  general  law,  and  that  misery  and 
sin  are  such  essential  conditions  and  concomitants  that  it 
isn't  worth  while  for  a  philosopher  to  trouble  himself  much 
about  the  matter",  is  very  nice  for  a  lazy  man  like  myself,  but 
I  am  afraid  the  doctrine  isn't  quite  true.  I  don't  exactly 
believe  it ;  I  wish  I  could,  but  I  can't.  And  yet,  with  a 
sense  of  duty  weighing  upon  me,  I  sit  still  and  do  nothing, 
while  Uncle  Shippen,  with  his  maxim  ever  on  his  lips,  '  Let 
the  world  wag,'  is  the  most  industrious  philanthropist  in  the 
city.  Well,  it  only  shows  that  habits  and  emotions  are 
unfortunately  stronger  guides  of  conduct  than  principles.  So 
now  let  us  see  what  there  is  up-stairs." 

Mr.  Boggs  found  nothing  but  vacant  rooms.  He  mounted 
to  the  attic,  tried  the  windows,  found  them  unfastened,  and 
ascertained  that  they  could  be  thrown  open  without  noise. 
He  examined  the  roof  and  made  sure  that  its  slant  was  of 
that  easy  angle  that  clambering  along  it  would  not  be  at  all 
difficult. 

Having  made  all  the  investigations  necessary,  he  descen 
ded  rapidly  to  the  street,  glad  to  get  once  more  into  the  free 
and  comparatively  pure  air. 

It  was  a  blustering,  cloudy,  lowering  morning.  There 
was  something  triste  in  the  air,  but,  in  comparison  with  the 
heavy  atmosphere  and  doleful  melancholic  suggestiveness  of 
everything  within,  the  street  seemed  joyful,  and  the  weather 
bright  and  delightful. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  5?g 

Mr.  Boggs  hurried  around  into  Bleecker  Street  to  keep 
his  appointment  with  Luther  and  the  Captain,  and  to  make 
his  report.  He  found  them  in  company  with  Mr.  Whoppers, 
who  had  not  yet  gone  down  to  his  office  ;  all  were  impatiently 
awaiting  his  arrival.  A  few  words  sufficed  to  put  them  in 
possession  of  the  facts,  and  not  a  little  discussion  followed, 
but  it  was  evident  that  nothing  more  could  be  done  until 
night. 

Luther  felt  a  strong  disposition  to  spend  the  rest  of  the 
day  in  a  close  reconnoissance  of  the  enemies'  quarters,  but 
the  danger  of  recognition  was  too  great.  He  must  do  some 
thing,  however ;  he  could  not  sit  still ;  he  could  not  read  or 
write  ;  he  refused  the  Captain's  invitation  to  visit  the  Spoon- 
drift  ;  he  would  take  a  long  walk  by  himself;  and  his  walk, 
in  order  that  it  might  be  of  sufficient  length,  led  him  more 
than  half-a-dozen  times  around  Washington  Square.  He 
knew  that  she  was  at  West  Point,  but  more  than  one  senti 
mental  young  gentleman  has  found  a  satisfaction  in  hanging 
around  the  spot  where  she — the  she  par  excellence — the  one 
bright  particular  she — the  only  she  in  the  whole  world — had 
been,  or  was  likely  to  be  again. 

Mr.  Boggs,  left  to  himself,  thought  at  first  that  he  would 
go  to  his  club,  but  upon  second  thoughts  he  would  be  sure  to 
meet  that  terrible  fellow,  Fred  Tompkins,  and  if  he  didn't 
meet  him,  there  was  nothing  to  do  there.  No  billiards — too 
early ;  and  if  not,  billiards  in  the  morning  are  disreputable 
and  bad  tone.  As  to  euchre,  that  would  be  still  worse,  if  it 
were  possible,  which  it  is  not,  to  get  up  a  hand  until  just 
before  dinner.  True,  there  was  the  amusement  of  staring 
nut  of  the  windows  at  the  ladies  on  the  avenue.  That  can  be 
done  at  almost  any  hour,  but  a  fellow  with  any  brains  gets 
awfully  tired  of  that.  And  Boggs  had  brains.  A  bright 
idea  !  He  would,  yes,  he  would  go  around  to  his  rooms, 
arrange  his  toilet,  get  himself  up  in  his  normal  style,  and  go 
and  see  if  Mrs.  Stichen  was  still  in  town. 

Mr.  Boggs  really  fancied  that  this  was  a  sudden  inspira 
tion,  whereas  there  had  been  a  little  devil  whispering  over 
34 


53° 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


his  shoulder  for  the  last  three  or  four  days  urging  him  to  go 
to  Mrs.  Stichen's,  and  partly  because  the  little  devil  had  so 
urged  him  he  would  not  go.  And  yet  the  thought  seemed 
now  new  and  spontaneous,  so  completely  doe's  the  sudden 
snap  of  volition,  the  sudden  giving  way  of  the  will  in  some 
cases,  obscure  the  previous  intellectual  processes  and  mystify 
the  conscience.  He  had  not  seen  her  in  some  time — almost  a 
week.  In  fact  it  was  a  much  longer  time  than  that  since  he 
had  paid  her  a  morning  visit.  He  knew  the  censoriousness 
of  society,  and  he  knew  that  there  was  more  danger  in  one 
pull  at  a  lady's  door-bell  in  the  morning,  under  the  inevitable 
eye  of  some  passing  male  gossip,  or  of  some  antiquated  but 
active  member  of  the  scandal-mongering  sisterhood,  and  at  a 
time  when  the  husband  is  presumably  down  town,  than  there 
is  in  a  dozen  evening  visits.  Any  number  of  whirls  in  the 
German,  my  dear  fellow,  any  amount  of  chat,  with  Champagne 
and  chicken-salad  attentions  at  matinees  and  receptions ;  but 
if  you  have  any  regard  for  Mrs.  Sophronisbie's  reputation, 
beware  of  often-repeated  morning  calls. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

Mrs.  Stichen's  Boudoir — A  Morning   Call — Just   touch-and-go — Society 
here  and  abroad. 

OF  a  very  peculiar  style  of  finish  and  furnish  is  the  second 
floor  front  of  the  Stichen  house.  Nothing  like  it  on 
the  avenue.  Many  people  don't  admire  it.  Boggs  did,  and 
well  he  might ;  he  had  assisted  Mrs.  Stichen  in  getting  it  up. 
Stichen  did  not  admire  it,  but  then,  with  a  generosity  and 
self-abnegation  worthy  of  a  distinguished  financier,  worthy  of 
a  man  whose  soul  is  absorbed  in  the  great  things  of  the  Street, 
he  said,  "As  you  please,  my  dear.  I've  no  taste,  you  know. 
It  is  your  room.  Don't  spare  expense.  Make  it  as  elegant 
and  unique, — I  believe  that  was  the  word  you  used,  Mr.  Boggs, 
— as  unique  as  you  please,  but  down-stairs  I  must  have  a  little 
of  the  ordinary  and  the  commonplace.  Lots  of  gilding,  var 
nish,  real  lace  and  brocade  for  the  windows,  and  above  all 
things  the  biggest  kind  of  pier  and  mantel  glasses.  And  I 
want  plenty  of  that  fresco  stuff  overhead,  and  a  regular  up  and 
down  imperial  flower-garden  on  the  floor.  Some  pictures? 
Well,  yes,  I  believe  that  is  respectable.  Some  jimcrackery,  of 
course.  Everybody  has  it.  And  I  don't  mind  if  you  get  a 
great  big  ebony  centre-table,  inlaid  with  ivory — Milan  work. 
Winnergelt  has  got  one  in  his  house,  and  he  says  it  stands  the 
furnace  better  than  that  French  brass  work.  But  as  to  this 
up-stairs  sitting-room,  or  parlor,  or  boudoir,  or  whatever  you 
are  going  to  call  it,  do  as  you  please.  Make  it  as  Moorish  or 
as  Turkeyfied  as  you  like. 

And  so  it  came  about  that  Mrs.  Stichen  and  Mr.  Boggs 
had   had  their  own   way.     The  doors  and  windows  had  all 


532  NEVER  AGAI\T. 

been  remodelled,  and  finished  in  horse-shoe  arches,  and  sup 
ported  on  slender  double  columns,  and  all  carved  in  divers 
specks  and  spots,  and  doited  all  over  with  little  symmetrical 
dashes  of  yellow,  blue,  and  red  paint  :  the  whole  producing 
that  kind  of  general  harmony  of  color  that  we  often  see  in  a 
Chinese  plate,  but  which  is  sometimes  wanting  in  the  more  ele 
gant  and  correct  designs  of  Christian  art.  The  ceiling  was 
panelled  in  wood  and  similarly  treated.  A  wide  archway  with 
sliding  doors  opened  into  the  small  room  over  the  hall,  mak 
ing  it  in  fact  part  of  the  larger  saloon.  This  small  room  was 
completely  surrounded  with  book-cases,  treated  in  the  Moor 
ish  style.  One  peculiarity  consisted  in  their  being  raised 
about  five  feet  from  the  floor,  on  slender  carved  columns,  al 
lowing  space  below  for  a  continuous  divan  and  cushions.  This 
arrangement  had  the  advantage  of  saving  space,  although  it  did 
not  allow  a  large  number  of  books,  only  three  or  four  rows  ; 
but  if  Mrs.  Stichen's  private  library  was  small,  it  was  exceed 
ingly  choice  and  select. 

Around  the  walls  of  the  larger  room,  at  a  height,  ran  a 
broad  rail,  or  rather  panel,  formed  of  pallisandre,  bois  de  rose, 
and  that  most  beautiful  of  all  woods,  the  galls  of  the  ash. 
From  this  rail  or  panel  depended  in  folds  to  the  floor  a  hang 
ing  of  the  richest  Cashmere  shawls.  Above  this  panelling,  or 
rather  making  part  of  it,  a  dozen  or  more  plates,  of  exquisite 
Sevres,  were  imbedded  in  the  carved  wood.  This  idea  Mr. 
Boggs  admitted  he  had  stolen  from  that  most  lovely  of  all 
rooms,  the  royal  bedroom  in  the  Moncalieri,  outside  Turin. 
Above  this  again  the  wall  was  panelled  with  silken  hangings, 
made  only  in  Milan,  in  which  the  beautiful  arabesques,  begin 
ning  with  a  deep  rose-color,  ran  by  an  invisible  gradation  into  a 
pale  apple-green  at  the  cornice,  which  was  but  little  more  than 
a  slender  beading  of  gold,  connecting  the  silken  walls  and 
carved  ceiling.  The  lambrequins  of  the  window  corresponded 
in  texture  and  color,  coming  low  down  upon  voluminous  cur 
tains  of  the  richest  thread  lace.  A  chimney-piece  of  carved  ash 
and  maple  was  enlivened  with  a  row  of  arabesques  in  Floren 
tine  mosaic.  A  rich,  deep-toned  Turkey  carpet  suggested  the 


NEVER  AGAIN.  533 

height  or  rather  depth  of  quiet  and  repose,  as  well  in  its  tex 
ture  as  in  its  color.  From  the  ceiling  depended  a  chandelier 
in  Bohemian  glass,  the  branches  separating  into  clusters  of 
cacti  and  fuchsias.  A  small  malachite  table  here,  and  another 
of  mosaic  there ;  and  still  another  of  carved  wood  covered 
with  a  Persian  scarf,  and  supporting  a  few  articles  of  virtu, 
mostly  in  ivory  or  mother-of-pearl,  or  Dresden  porcelain, 
assisted  in  lighting  up  the  room.  But  the  brightest  thing  in  it 
\vas  a  jardiniere  in  Sevres  work  filled  with  natural  flowers. 

We  say  the  brightest  thing  in  it,  but  that  is  a  mistake. 
The  brightest  thing  in  it  was  Mrs.  Stichen  herself.  Habited 
in  a  delicately  embroidered  cambric  robe,  enlivened  here  and 
there  with  a  slight  insertion  of  Valenciennes,  her  yellow  hair 
en  coiffure  de  matin — in  English,  artistically  dishevelled  and 
falling  around  her  brow  and  cheeks  and  neck  in  an  indescrib 
able  labyrinth  of  lustrous  frizettes  and  demi-ringlets — a  book 
in  her  hand,  and  reclining  in  molluscous  languor  upon  a  mother- 
of-pearl  reading-lounge,  she  seemed  the  centre  and  point  from 
which  emanated  all  the  light  in  the  room.  It  is  doubtful  if 
the  Art  Committee  of  the  Century  Club  could  have  arranged 
the  thing  in  more  artistic  style.  And  yet  Mrs.  Stichen  had 
no  affectations,  no  conscious  strainings  after  effect,  no  small 
vanities,  and  no  especial  liking  for  the  common  patent  admira 
tion-traps  of  society-women.  She  was  really  simple-minded, 
honest-hearted,  and  clear-headed,  but  she  ha^  been  endowed 
at  her  birth  with  a  keen  sense  of  the  beautiful,  with  a  taste  for 
the  elegant,  with,  it  must  be  confessed,  a  liking  and  a  longing 
for  the  gorgeous  ;  with,  in  fact,  a  grand  talent,  needing  but  the 
slightest  cultivation,  for  the  highest  sphere  of  luxurious  refine 
ment.  In  other  words,  she  was  born  with  the  soul  of  an  artist. 
Like  Venus  Anadyomene,  the  earlier  circumstances  of  her 
life  were  against  her.  For  years  she  lay  buried  beneath  a  sea 
of  shirting,  muslin,  and  Irish  linen,  but  when  she  rose,  she  had 
the  faculty  of  shaking  off  the  foam  of  frills  and  plaits,  of  gus 
sets  and  hems,  and  stepping  right  on  to  her  proper  pedestal 
in  the  inner  courts  of  the  temple  of  Fashion,  where  none  but 
the  initiated  are  permitted  to  kotou  and  rub  their  noses  in 
the  dust,  in  humble  adoration  of  the  transcendent  mystery. 


534  NE  VER  A  GA IN- 

A  little  negro  boy,  of  the  blackest  type,  and  habited  in  a 
tasselled  fez  and  embroidered  caftan,  trimmed  with  rows  of 
tiny  gold  bells,  and  in  baggy  Moorish  trowsers  of  the  finest 
white  flannel,  fastened  at  the  knee  with  large  buckles  of  gar 
net  and  topaz  uniting  them  to  red  stockings,  and  with  green 
slippers,  embroidered  with  pearls,  held  open  the  door  for  Mr. 
Boggs,  who  cast  an  admiring  glance  at  the  imp.  "  It  is  as 
good  as  a  play,"  he  muttered  ;  "  better  than  an  ordinary  play  ; 
it  is  as  good  as  the  Black  Crook ;  it  is  as  good  as  the  circus." 

Mr.  Boggs  paused  at  the  threshold  for  an  instant.  A  fine 
invisible  something  seemed  to  check  him,  and  hold  him  spell 
bound.  Was  it  the  sudden  peeping  out  of  some  little  lurking 
villain  of  a  sentiment  which  had  been  lying  perdue  all  this 
while  ?  No,  it  was  of  course  nothing  but  the  peculiar  light  in 
which  the  lustrous  hair,  the  snowy  dress,  the  graceful  attitude 
happened  to  be  exhibited.  Still  Mr.  Boggs  did  not  feel  quite 
so  much  at  his  ease  as  usual.  The  conviction  that  the  old 
relation  of  master  and  pupil  might  be  slipping  away,  and  that 
he  might  yet  be  found  taking  as  .well  as  giving  lessons  in  a 
science  deeper  than  any  social  or  society  science,  deep  as  the 
science  of  humanity  itself,  had  hardly  time  to  formulate  itself 
in  words ;  but  a  swift  flash  of  vague  fear  darted  through  him 
— a  suspicion  that  perhaps  after  all  he  had  not  of  late  been 
quite  so  platonic  as  he  had  supposed  himself.  "Confound  it," 
he  muttered.  "If  this  should  be  like  all  the  rest  of 'em." 
The  idea  pricked  his  pride,  slightly  it  is  true,  and  still  more 
slightly  his  conscience. 

He  was  not  however  a  man  to  allow  any  slight  prickings 
of  conscience  to  disturb  the  easy  equanimity  of  his  manners. 
He  advanced  into  the  room.  "  Don't  rise,  my  dear  Mrs. 
Stichen,"  he  exclaimed.  "  I  should  be  sorry  to  disturb  an 
attitude  of  such  perfect  grace." 

Mrs.  Stichen  colored  slightly,  said  nothing,  but  held  out 
her  hand.  Perhaps  Mr.  Boggs  pressed  it  a  little  more 
warmly  than  usual.  At  any  rate  the  lady  colored  still  more 
deeply  and  drew  her  hand  rapidly  away. 

"  We  have  not  seen  you  for  almost  a  week,'1  she  said. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  535 

"  No.  and  I  don't  think  you  will  see  me  again  for  some 
time,"  replied  Mr.  Boggs,  throwing  himself  into  a  Shaker 
rocking-chair. 

"  Why  so  ?  "  demanded  the  lady. 

"  Because  if  you  continue  to  get  yourself  up  in  such  an 
enchanting  style  I  can't  afford  to  visit  you.  It  is  running  too 
much  risk." 

The  lady  looked  about  uneasily  for  a  moment,  and  her 
countenance  assumed  a  very  sad  expression. 

Mr.  Boggs  leaned  forward  so  as  to  lessen  the  distance 
between  them.  "You  look  unhappy,"  he  said.  "Something 
troubles  you.  Tell  me  what  it  is.  You  know  that  you  can 
not  have  a  sincerer  friend  than  I  am.  Don't  you,  my  dear" — 
alas,  he  could  not  make  himself  pronounce  the  ugly  words, 
Mrs.  Stichen,  so  he  said,  "  my  dear  Lizzie  ? " 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  called  her  Lizzie,  unless 
in  jest  and  before  Stichen  himself,  and  now  it  had  such 
a  wonderfully  thrilling  sound.  The  simple  word,  Lizzie !  It 
cut  so  swiftly  and  keenly  into  her  heart  that  she  did  not  feel 
much  pain,  and  that  frightened  her. 

Her  decision  was  made  on  the  instant.  A  moment  more 
and  she  might  lose  her  friend.  She  would  not — she  could  not 
afford  to — lose  her  friend.  If  Goethe  had  whispered  to  her : 

"  Fast  asleep  is  Amor  lying — 
Do  not  touch  him — do  not  wake  him," 

she  could  not  have  been  more  resolute  and  more  clear. 
Suddenly  she  turned  with  vivacity  to  Mr.  Boggs,  and  laid  her 
hand  imploringly  on  his  arm. 

"  Mr.  Boggs,  may  I  talk  to  you  plainly  about  something  ?  " 
"Certainly  !     Is  there  any  subject  forbidden  us  ?  " 
"Yes,"   replied   Mrs.    Stichen  emphatically,  and  sinking 
back   into   her   seat.     "  There    are    subjects    forbidden — for 
bidden  by  every  feeling  of  honor  and   honesty — forbidden, 
of  all  people  in  the  world,  to  us." 

Her  voice  began  to  assume  the  slight  huskiness  that 
often  betrays  a  deeper  feeling  than  the  speaker  intends  to 


536  NEVER  AGAIN. 

show,  and  which  invariably  grows  worse  the  more  violent 
the  effort  to  prevent  it.  The  only  way  is  to  stop  and  take 
a  different  pitch. 

Mrs.  Stichen  paused,  and  looked  embarrassed. 

"  Go  on,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Boggs  in  an  encouraging  tone. 

"May  I?"  said  the  lady.  "But  why  should  I  ask  ?  I 
know  I  may  j  you  are  both  too  kind  and  too  wise  to  mis 
understand  me.  Well  what  I  want  to  say  is,  that  at  our 
first  acquaintance  you  promised  that  you  would  never  pay 
me  any  of  the  usual  idle  compliments  of  society." 

"  But  what  if  any  compliments  I  now  pay  you,  however 
exaggerated  or  stilted  in  form,  are  not  idle,  or  meaningless^ 
or  false  ? "  demanded  Mr.  Boggs. 

"  You  promised  more,"  continued  Mrs.  Stichen,  un 
heeding  the  interruption,  "  voluntarily  promised,  you  will 
recollect ;  you  promised  to  be  an  honest,  straightforward 
friend.  You  promised  to  advise  me,  direct  me,  reprove  me  ; 
never  to  flatter  me,  never  to  pay  me  any  attentions  that 
would  excite  remark ;  never  to  permit  anything  between  us 
that  looked  like  flirtation ;  no  idle  gallantries  on  your  part, 
no  sentimental  demonstrations  on  mine.  When  you  said, 
jokingly  it  is  true,  but,  as  I  knew,  in  dead  earnest,  that  you 
were  not  going  to  allow  me  to  fall  in  love  with  you,  I  did  not 
feel  it  as  an  impertinence,  as  in  the  case  of  a  single  man  to 
a  married  woman  it  might  well  be.  I  took  it  thankfully  as 
a  warning.  I  know  my  weakness,  my  ignorance  ;  and  I  felt 
proud  to  have  a  friend  who  had  the  honesty  and  the  courage 
to  say  such  a  thing  to  me.  You  said  openly  and  candidly 
that  my  beauty  and  general  atractions  were  well  worthy  of 
any  man's  gallant  attentions.  And  I  saw  no  harm  in  that, 
because  I  thought  that  you  spoke  the  plain  truth  in  a  proper 
way  and  on  a  proper  occasion  ;  but  you  also  said  that  one 
consideration,  if  there  were  no  other,  would  prevent  you  from 
being  the  man.  You  said  that  my  husband  was  your  friend, 
that  you  were  under  many  obligations  to  him,  and  that,  as  a 
man  of  honor  and  a  gentleman,  you  were  bound  to  never 
think,  say,  or  do  anything  unworthy  of  the  confidence  he 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


537 


had  placed  in  you.  Oh,  Mr.  Boggs,  you  know  perfectly  well, 
and  it  can  do  no  harm  to  confess  it,  that  my  husband  is  net 
my  highest  idea  of  a  man,  but  he  is  a  true  man — a  man  with 
a  big  and  pure  heart — a  generous  man,  an  honest  man,  and 
a  confiding  man ;  and  I  declare  to  you,  Mr.  Boggs,  with  my 
whole  soul,  that  sooner  than  give  him  one  pang  of  jealousy, 
one  doubt  of  my  entire  rectitude  as  his  wife,  I  would  be 
willing  to  walk  out  of  this  house,  give  up  society,  friends, 
music,  dress,  everything  ;  and  go  back,  and  work  by  his  side 
again  in  the  little  old  factory  in  Broome  Street." 

Mrs.  Stichen  had  reached  a  climax,  and  as  every  one 
knows  this  figure,  when  of  the  feminine  order,  has  but  one 
natural  close,  she  buried  her  face  in  her  handkerchief 
and  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears. 

Mr.  Boggs  never  moved  a  muscle.  He  sat  quietly, 
staring  with  all  his  eyes  ;  staring  not  only  at  her,  but  beyond 
her,  and  around  her,  and  by  a  curious  introversion  of  vision, 
at  himself.  He  saw,  as  it  were,  by  the  flash  of  an  electric 
lamp,  his  own  condition.  He  saw  himself  plunged,  in  one 
swift  moment,  into  the  depths  of  a  helpless,  hopeless  love. 

Mr.  Boggs  had  but  little  religion  proper.  He  had  been 
born  of  a  good  old  family,  in  a  day  when  the  term  good  old 
families  really  meant  something  in  the  then  select  society  of 
New  Y@rk.  That  is,  before  the  irruption  of  outside  bar 
barians  from  the  east  and  from  the  west — from  the  valleys 
of  Rhine  and  the  slopes  of  Taunus,  on  the  one  hand,  and 
the  gulches  of  Nevada  and  placers  of  California  on  the 
other — from  the  great  Centre  of  the  Universe  whence,  to-day 
as  of  yore,  issues  the  miraculous  mandate,  "  Let  there  be 
light,"  together  with  all  its  outlying  lands  of  New  England, 
on  this  side,  and  from  the  cities  of  the  South  on  that — before, 
long  before  this  invasion  had  so  diluted  the  Knickerbocker 
element,  or  had  so  completely  cowed  the  veritable  aristocracy 
of  the  city,  that  its  social  assertiveness  has  almost  fallen 
into  a  pitiful  plaint,  with  now  and  then  a  spasmodic  but 
useless  denunciation  of  the  growth  of  uncultured,  ill-man 
nered,  noisy  vulgarity. 


538  NEVER   AGAIN. 

From  one  of  these  old  families  Mr.  Boggs  was  descended. 
Was  not  his  grandmother  the  daughter  of  Livingstone,  L. 
Livingstone  of  Livingstone — Livingstone  Upper  Manor, — no, 
Livingstone  Lower  Manor — well,  it  makes  no  difference  ;  tht 
Manor,  any  way.  As  for  his  father,  didn't  he  come  in  with  the 
first  English  Governor,  and  hold  all  manner  of  offices,  and 
when  he  died  didn't  his  son  succeed  him,  and  when  this  son 
died,  was  there  not  the  biggest  funeral  ever  known  ?  Don't 
the  chronicles  of  New  York  gives  us  all  the  details  and  the 
cost  ?  A  thousand  pounds  sterling  if  a  penny,  and  the  revels 
lasted  three  whole  days  after  the  defunct  was  in  his  tomb,  to 
which  he  had  been  escorted  by  the  highest  burghers  of  the 
high  Order  of  Noble  Burghers — founded  by  the  great  Petrus — 
with  Lovelace,  the  English  Governor,  and  Balthasar,  the  son 
of  Peter  Stuyvesant,  the  last  Dutch  Governor,  heading  the 
crowd.  And  let  him  that  doubts  that  more  good  old  wine 
was  expended  upon  that  occasion  than  ever  fell  in  libation  to 
the  manes  of  an  Augustus  Caesar,  let  him  search  the  chronicles 
or  ask' Bancroft,  or  Dr.  O'Callagan,  or  Broadhead,  or  George 
]\Ir.ore.  \Ye  wash  our  hands  of  such  skepticism,  and  hasten 
back  to  our  text. 

Boggs  had  little  or  no  religion,  but  coming  of  such  a  family 
he  had  been  baptized  and  confirmed,  of  course.  He  couldn't 
help  that,  but  he  had  never  made  a  profession,  or  experienced 
a  change.  He  was  not  much  stronger  in  morals;  true  he  had 
looked  into  the  theories.  He  had  just  received  a  shock  from 
reading  Lecky's  prefatory  chapter.  He  was  a  thorough 
derivatist,  but  in  practice  he  \\?s>  not  strong;  he  did  not  pre 
tend  to  be  a  strictly  moral  man.  He  did  not  plume  himself 
upon  principle. 

Certainly  it  is  a  very  creditable  thing  when  a  man  of  that 
kind  resists  temptation,  sends  the  devil  off  with  a  flea  in  his 
ear,  and  resolutely  sets  himself  about  doing  the  right  thing. 
It  speaks  well  also  for  the  society  which  produces  him.  It 
makes  one  think  that  perhaps  fashionable  people  are  almost 
as  good  as  unfashionable  people,  and  that  society  par  excellence 
is  not  a  mere  gathering  of  all  that  is  frivolous,  worthless,  and 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


539 


vile.  It  makes  one  almost  question  the  authority  of  the  knowing 
country  parson,  the  learned  college  professor,  or  the  gentle 
provincial  moralist  in  general,  as  to  the  irredeemable  demor 
alization  that  pervades  the  upper  ranks  of  city  life. 

The  correlation  of  vulgarity  and  virtue  is  a  doctrine 
which  has  been  extensively  taught  by  very  good  authority — • 
the  novel  of  society;  but  its  truth  may  well  be  doubted.  Closer 
and  more  extended  observation,  a  more  copious  induction  of 
fashionable  facts,  will  lead  to  the  conclusion  that  all  the  bad 
ness  is  not  confined  to  the  extreme  upper  sets  of  the  upper-ten- 
thousand,  and  that  when  Mrs.  Smith  denounces  her  whilom 
humble,  but  now  fashionable  friend,  Mrs.  Brown,  as  "  such  a 
a  dreadfully  worldly  woman,"  she  herself  is  not  any  more 
surely  and  directly  in  the  road  to  Heaven,  albeit  she  never  had 
cards  for  the  three  or  four  balls  of  the  season,  and  still  less 
ever  had  an  invitation  to  show  at  the  elegant  and  elevated 
"gabble-gobbles,"  as  Mr.  Whoppers  calls  them,  of  the  Fair- 
fields,  the  Arelins,  and  others  of  the  Square,  or  the  Starlings, 
the  Montabellos,  the  De  Belleverts,  et  id  omne  genus  of  the 
Avenue,  or  ever  had  an  opportunity  of  gratifying  a  taste  for 
the  delicate  baroque  and  rococo  at  any  of  Malleusly's  orig 
inal  and  recherche  entertainments. 

As  Mrs.  Stichen  ceased  to  sob,  Mr.  Boggs  leaned  forward 
and  gently  pulled  away  the  handkerchief,  and  looked  down 
into  those  glistening  eyes  with  an  open,  earnest  glance.  He 
took  her  little  plump  hand,  and  squeezed  it,  no  longer  in  a 
fondling  way,  but  rather  roughly,  and  gave  it  a  good  honest 
shake. 

"  You're  right,  my  dear  Mrs.  Stichen  ;  quite  right.  You 
make  me  proud  of  my  pupil  ;  have  no  fear  of  my  misunder 
standing  what  you  have  said  ;  you  did  well  to  speak  in  time. 
Things  of  this  kind  grow  so  fast,  it  is  well  to  root  them  up 
early.  Pull  idle  weeds  in  the  morning,  and  they'll  wither 
before  night.  Chuck  them  at  once  on  Lethe's  tide,  and  you'll 
never  be  bothered  with  the  seed.  That's  a  nice  figure  isn't 
it  ?— ha  !  ha  !  " 

Mr.  Boggs  laughed,  and  resolutely  buttoned  the  folds  of 


54° 


NEVER  AGA/.Y. 


his  heart  over  a  "  varmint"  that  threatened  to  gnaw  into  his 
vitals  as  deeply  as  did  the  stolen  fox  of  the  famous  Spartan 
boy. 

No  use  in  pausing  ;  but  get  back  at  once  to  the  jaunty 
style,  and  plunge  at  once  into  the  gossipy  or  the  didactic,  no 
matter  how  commonplace  or  stupid.  "How  is  Stichen-?"  he 
suddenly  demanded.  "  He  has  quite  recovered?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  strong  as  ever.  It  was  just  a  little  vertigo.  He 
never  entirely  lost  consciousness,  you  know.  He  says  it  was 
nothing  but  those  sweet  things  at  Delmonico's  that  disagreed 
with  him,  but  I  think  it  was  the  excitement  of  business.  And 
that  makes  me  a  little  afraid,  now,  for  you  know  they  say 
there  is  a  terrible  time  in  the  Street." 

The  determined,  easy  tone  of  this  question  and  answer 
banished  all  trace  of  emotion.  It  was  just  touch-and-go,  but 
the  danger  was  past.  No  use  of  another  word.  The  dark, 
lurid  mists  of  passion  had  lifted,  and  disclosed  nothing  but 
the.  cool  glitter  of  a  landscape  lighted  only  by  the  full  pure 
moon  of  friendship.  Ah,  false  Sir  Launcelot  and  faithless 
Guinevere — why  could  you  not  have  behaved  as  nicely  ? " 

"A  terrible  time,  indeed,"  responded  Mr.  Boggs,  "but 
you  need  not  be  frightened  about  Stichen.  His  mind  is  easy. 
He  must  be  raking  it  in  now  like  a  hay-maker  in  June,  and  it 
never  hurts  any  man's  health  to  make  money.  That  last  little 
thing  he  let  me  into  netted  me  a  clean  five  thousand.  I  assure 
you  I  never  felt  less  like  dyspepsia  in  my  life.  Ah,  money  is 
a  most  excellent  tonic,  and  making  it  the  best  exercise.  I 
suppose  that  if  we  rightly  estimate  mundane  matters  it  is  the 
greatest,  if  not  the  highest,  pleasure  in  life." 

"  You  don't  believe  a  word  you  say." 

"  You  think  so  ? " 

"  I  do,  and  for  several  reasons,"  replied  Mrs.  Stichen. 
"In  the  first  place  I  have  heard  you  express  yourself  very  dif 
ferently,  and  in  the  next  place,  not  believing  much  in  money 
myself,  I  can't  think  that  a  man  of  your  sense  should  believe 
in  it  either.  It  is  true  you  have  never  had  so  wide  an  experi 
ence  as  I  have.  I  have  known  the  utter  want  of  money,  and 
now  I  know  what  it  is  to  have  too  much." 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


541 


"  Too  much,  my  dear  Mrs.  Stichen  ?     That's  impossible." 

"  Indeed  it  is  not.  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Boggs,  I  am  getting 
very  tired  of  all  this  thing?  Shall  I  confess  to  you,  what  I 
hardly  dare  confess  to  myself,  that  I  am  not  satisfied  with  all 
this  luxury  ?  I  thought  it  would  be  such  a  fine  thing,  and  I 
knew  it  would  come  some  day,  and  so  I  studied  for  it,  and 
tried  to  prepare  myself  for  it.  I  endured  my  mean  boarding- 
house  life  without  a  murmur,  because  I  knew  and  felt  nothing 
of  the  present.  I  lived  only  in  the  future.  I  confided  in  my 
dreams.  I  knew  that  the  elegant,  the  refined,  the  gorgeous, 
and  the  glorious  would  some  day  be  mine.  Why,  do  you  know, 
I  worked  at  my  music,  not  half  so  much  for  the  pleasure  it 
then  gave  me  as  music,  but  for  the  delight  I  should  take  in  it 
when  I  should  hear  my  voice  ringing  through  gilded  saloons 
and  marble  halls,  and  listen  to  the  gentle  '  bravas'  and  to  the 
muffled  clappings  of  kid  gloves.  And  now  it  has  all,  and 
more  than  all,  come  true  ;  and  I  have  nothing  left  in  the  way 
of  luxury  and  dress  and  show  to  wish  for,  and  I  am  a  poor 
miserable  woman." 

Mrs.  Stichen  uttered  these  last  words  in  such  a  sincerely 
mournful  tone  that  any  man  would  have  felt  justified  in  express 
ing  his  sympathy  in  words,  but  Mr.  Boggs  merely  looked  the 
feeling  he  felt — no  fellow  can  control  the  expression  of  his. 
eyes,  you  know — and  said  nothing. 

"  My  husband,"  continued  Mrs.  Stichen,  "  says  to  me — 
you  know  that  he  has  plenty  of  sense,  if  he  is  a  little  coarse 
— he  says,  '  Lizzie,  you  have  tried  society  now,  and  it  don't 
pay.  Why  don't  you  dive  into  philanthropy  ?  Get  yourself 
in  as  Directoress,  or  Governoress,  or  Presidentess,  or  some 
thing  or  other,  and  draw  on  me  for  the  expenses  ? '  Well,  I 
do  draw  on  him  for  the  expenses  pretty  roundly.  I  give  and 
give,  but  it  don't  seem  to  do  any  good,  at  least  to  me,  and  as 
for  anything  more,  why  in  some  cases  I  don't  like  the  manage 
ment,  in  others  I  doubt  the  utility,  but  worse  than  all,  I  have 
none  of  the  right  habits  and  no  tastes  or  inclinations  that 
way." 

"  But  society,  my  dear  Mrs.  Stichen." 


542  NE  VER  A  GA IN. 

"  Pshaw,  Mr.  Boggs,  you  know  society  better  than  I  do, 
and  I  really  believe  you  like  it  less.  You  know  what  a  hum 
bug  it  is — " 

"  A  comparative  humbug — not  exactly  a  humbug  perse — 
not  a  positive  humbug,"  interrupted  Mr.  Bo2jgs. 

"  You  mean  as  compared  with  society  abroad,"  said  Mrs. 
Stichen. 

"  Not  at  all.  I  don't  think  that  ours  is  a  humbug  as  com 
pared  with  society  abroad.  Our  society  dresses  almost  as 
well,  and  dances  quite  as  well,  as  the  French.  It  is  not  so 
intellectual — not  so  spirituelle — partly  because  many  of  our 
clever  men  have  but  little  to  do  with  it,  and  partly  because 
the  French  women  have  cultivated  habits  of  conversation. 
They  have  traditions  of  famous  saloons." 

"  Ah,  that  French  causerie  that  I  have  read  so  much  of," 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Stichen.  "  I  should  so  like  to  hear  something 
of  it.  Do  you  believe,  Mr.  Boggs,  that  what  Jules  Janin  says 
is  true, — '  If  there  is  any  one  knows  more  of  the  anecdotes 
and  ideas,  the  facts  and  the  fancies,  the  passions  and  the  feel 
ings,  the  doings  in  literature  and  art  and  politics,  that  move 
the  world  of  to-day,  than  the  Parisian,  it  is  the  Parisienne  ? " 

"  I'll  show  you,"  replied  Mr.  Boggs,  "  the  style  of  thing,  as 
.1  see  you  have  a  book  here  handy." 

Mr.  Boggs  stepped  up  to  the  cases  in  the  small  room 
and  took  down  a  bookj  and  running  over  the  pages  quickly 
found  the  passage  he  sought.  "  Listen.  We  will  pay  a  visit 
to  a  French  salon,  and  just  have  the  goodness  to  imagine  an 
infinite  degree  of  vivacity,  grace,  and  wit,  which  the  reporter 
has  not  here  indicated. 

"  Our  women  trust  to  nature  in  this,"  said  Mr.  Boggs  as  h  e 
finished  reading  a  passage  too  long  for  us  to  give  here.  "  They 
think  it  enough  to  warble  their  wood-notes  wild, — and  devilish 
wild  they  are,  too,  sometimes.  But  it  isn't  the  tone  or  pitch 
that  I  mind,  it's  the  want  of  compass.  The  gamut  of  our 
society-women  has  only  about  five  notes.  Our  church  and  its 
parson,  our  children  and  servants,  Mrs.  Grundy's  sayings  and 
doings,  with  the  Opera,  and  perhaps  the  last  novel,  make 


NEVER  AGAIN.  543 

about  the  range,  but  within  that  I  must  say  they  trill,  and  run 
and  generally  appogiaturize  nicely." 

"  Ah,  then  you  think  that,  as  compared  with  the  English 
our  society  is  a  humbug?  The  Hon.  Mr.  Flipperkin  told 
me  as  much  the  other  evening." 

"  Flipperkin  is  a  donkey,  and  not  the  first  one  they  have 
sent  us  from  the  other  side.  He  really  believes  that  Amer 
icans  talk,  think,  and  dream  of  nothing  but  the  'Britishers.' 
And  mentioning  that  word,  I  have  asked  fifty  men  at  least 
if  they  ever  heard  an  American  use  the  word  '  Britisher,' 
and  I  have  never  found  one  who  had  ever  known  a  man 
who  had  heard  or  seen  the  word,  except  in  the  English  press. 
I'll  tell  you  what  I  happened  to  come  across  the  other 
day,  which  illustrates  this  point  exactly.  I  accidentally 
picked  up  a  book  of  travels  in  America,  by  the  Honorable 
Mr.  Something  or  other ;  I  forget  his  name.  He  had  got  a 
notion  of  American  prudery.  He  had  probably  heard  the 
story  of  the  Yankee  girl  who,  for  decency's  sake,  put  the 
legs  of  her  piano  in  pantalets,  and  had  gobbled  it  down 
and  stowed  it  away  in  his  innermost  sanctum  of  profound 
verities.  He  wanted  to  be  funny,  and  at  the  same  time 
illustrate  this  striking  American  characteristic.  Funny  and 
profound  at  the  same  time  !  No  travelling  John  Bull  that 
we  have  ever  seen  here  could  be  expected  to  resist  the 
te  mptation.  He  stops  at  the  Astor  House,  and  does  as  no 
one  but  a  '  Britisher' is  supposed  to  do  more  than  once  in 
six  months — he  takes  a  bath  and  changes  his  shirt.  Alas ! 
there  was  a  button  loose  on  the  unmentionable  garment.  He 
had  no  needle  and  thread,  so  he  steps  out  of  his  door 
into  the  hall  and  encounters  an  American  chambermaid, 
and  holding  up  the  horrible  thing  in  full  view,  asks  her  if 
she  can  get  the  button  fastened  on  to  his  shirt !  She,  like  a 
true  Yankee  girl,  throws  up  both  hands  in  an  agony  of  shame, 
screams  out '  Lawk,  sir,'  and  turns  and  rushes  down  the  corridor. 
Now  what  can  you  make  of  a  fellow  like  that  ?  He  don't 
seem  to  have  the  least  idea  that  he  is  romancing,  and  yet 
I'd  like  to  make  an  even  bet  that  there  never  has  been  a 


544  NEVER  AGAIN. 

Yankee  chambermaid  in  the  Astor  House,  and  that  if  it  had 
been  filled  with  them,  nothing  that  he  could  have  said,  done, 
or  exhibited,  would  have  made  one  of  them  scream  '  Lawk, 
sir.'  Flipperkins  is  one  of  this  kind.  He  reads  the 
Saturday  Review,  and  he  would  sooner  believe  its  assertion 
of  any  facts,  in  relation  to  the  manners  and  customs  01 
American  society,  than  his  own  eyes.  He  has  been  here  a 
a  year,  and  has  really  gone  about  a  good  deal  in  sets  that 
Dickens  from  the  first  got  himself  absolutely  shunted  out  of ; 
and  yet  I'll  venture  to  say  that,  in  his  "secret  mind,  he  really 
believes  that  there  is  not  a  gentleman  or  lady  in  the  land 
who  don't  ram  knives  down  their  throats  in  eating  ;  that 
there  is  not  a  chair,  ottoman,  or  sofa-cushion  in  the  city  un 
marked  by  boot-heels,  and  not  a  square  yard  of  Moquet,  Im 
perial,  or  Wilton  unspotted  with  tobacco  'spittle.  I  like  to 
amuse  myself  sometimes  with  Flipperkins.  I  said  to  him 
one  day,  when  he  was  talking  about  the  coarse  customs  of 
Americans,  '  Flipperkins,  do  you  know,  the  only  gentleman 
that  ever  I  saw  stick  a  knife  into  his  mouth  in  eating,  was  an 
English  earl;  a  famous  man  too.  He  "was  my  vis-a-vis  at 
table  in  Milan ;  a  big  burly  old  fellow,  pretty  well  crippled 
with  the  gout.  I  saw  him  distinctly  twice,  if  not  three  times, 
mash  his  peas  on  his  plate  and  load  his  knife  with  the  mass.' 
Flipperkins  stood  for  two  minutes  with  his  mouth  wide  open, 
but  unable  to  say  a  word." 

"  Perhaps  he  thought  you  were  telling  a  story,  and  was  too 
polite  to  say  so,"  said  Mrs.  Stichen. 

"  Just  so  ;  I  don't  suppose  he  believed  a  word  of  it,  but  he 
was  aghast — thunderstruck  that  such  a  story  could  have  been 
invented.  'I  don't  suppose,'  said  I,  in  a  patronizing  tone, 
'  that  is  the  common  custom  among  the  English  nobility,  as  it 
is  here,  to  mash  peas  on  a  plate  and  ram  them  down  the  throat 
with  a  knife,  is  it  ? '  I  marched  off  and  left  him  speechless. 
Once  upon  a  time,"  continued  Mr.  Boggs,  "  we  had  a  visit  from 
a  great  English  philosopher — proverbially  the  greatest  philoso 
pher  in  England,  and  he  brought  along  an  amazing  amount  of 
condescension  for  the  uncouth  habits  and  customs  of  the 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


545 


transatlantic  savage.  So,  one  night,  at  a  little  gathering  made 
in  his  honor,  he  pulls  a  chair  with  its  back  towards  him,  hoists 
his  leg  over  it,  and  rests  his  foot  on  the  seat,  while  he  went 
on  with  his  animated  conversation.  We  all  understood  it,  and 
enjoyed  it  mightily.  It  was  not  a  piece  of  coarseness,  or  rude 
ness — no  offence  was  intended  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  was  a  most 
amiable  conformity  to  the  manners  of  the  country.  It  was  sim 
ply  saying,  '  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I'm  the  lion  of  the  evening, 
it  is  true,  but  don't  mind  me  ;  cock  your  feet  upon  the  chimney- 
piece,  and  slap  your  legs  around  on  the  chairs.  I'm  a  phi 
losopher,  and  can  accommodate  myself  to  anything  short  of 
cannibalism  or  tattooing.'  I  caught  Flipperkins,  and  said, 
What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  He  took  a  long  stare  through  his 
eye-glass  and  exclaimed:  'How  very  extraordinary;  why,  he 
has  not  been  more  than  three  or  four  days  in  the  country.' " 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  I  made  Stichen  give  up  tobacco-chewing 
some  time  ago,"  said  Mrs.  Stichen. 

"  Of  course,  American  gentlemen  don't  chew,  with  very 
rare  exceptions,  and  then  they  are  generally  from  the  South. 
We  all  smoke — smoke  terribly." 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Stichen,  "  you  not  only  smoke 
terribly,  but  horribly." 

"  And  yet,"  replied  Mr.  Boggs,  "  the  thing  is  not  as  bad 
here  as  in  other  countries.  We  don't  smoke  as  much  as  the 
Germans  ;  we  don't  smoke  as  much  as  they  do  in  Spain,  where 
I  have  seen,  more  than  once,  a  whole  family  come  out  on  to  the 
balcony  half  dressed,  of  an  early  morning,  yawning  and  rub 
bing  their  as  yet  unwashed  eyes,  and  each  and  every  one,  father 
and  mother,  brothers  and  sisters,  down  to  a  little  feminine  s'ix- 
year-old,  with  cigarettes  in  their  mouths.  We  don't  smoke 
more  than  the  English;  perhaps  not  so  much  ;  but  there  is  no 
doubt  we  smoke  too  much.  The  tradition  abroad,  however, 
is  that  we  all  chew.  The  idea  of  fine-cut  or  pig-tail  appears 
to  be  so  intimately  associated  with  the  idea  of  an  American  in 
the  mind  of  an  Englishman,  that  to  separate  them  would  be 
simply  to  unjoin t  the  whole  universe,  and  upset  church  and 
state  and  creation  generally." 
35 


546  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"But  what  can  you  say,  Mr.  Boggs,  about  the  cars?' 
demanded  the  lady,  with  a  slight  shudder,  and  an  instinctive 
grasping  of  her  skirts. 

"Oh,  there  you  have  touched  the  point  exactly,  and  a  soie 
one  it  is,"  replied  Mr.  Boggs.  "An  Englishman  finds  himself 
among  a  car-load  of  people,  more  than  one-half  of  whom  are 
tinkers,  and  tailors,  and  mechanics  of  every  degree  ;  country 
shop-keepers  or  small  farmers,  and  common  laborers,  and 
mingled  with  these,  loafers  and  gamblers ;  and  because  they 
are  all  tolerably  well-dressed,  and  quite  intelligent-looking, 
and  in  general  behave  themselves  with  decency  and  dignity, 
he  imagines  himself  to  have  had  a  thorough  inlook  into  Amer 
ican  society,  and  that  the  filth  on  the  floor  must  have  come 
from  the  lips  of  the  elite. 

"  That  is  the  kind  of  mistake,  too,  that  is  made  about  our 
folks  abroad.  We  do  send  some  very  queer  people  abroad, 
and  some  of  our  best  give  themselves  great  license  in  the 
rowdy  line,  when  over  there.  This  comes  of  their  English 
blood.  It  rises  from  the  brutal  contempt  for  all  other  people 
ingrained  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  race.  Different  forces  have 
softened  manners  in  different  countries.  No  one,  however,  will 
pretend  that  with  us,  and  our  cousins,  self-respect  has  any 
great  restraining  energy.  Public  opinion  is  the  great  thing. 
That  is  the  public  opinion  of  our  set.  Let  up  a  little  on  that, 
and  the  brutal  barbarians  of  Hengest  and  Horsa  begin  to  play, 
and  we  may  be  satisfied  if  we  don't  get  sight  of  the  nude 
woaded  savage,  or  even  that  fellow  with  his  stone  hatchet,  and 
his  anthropophagous  habits." 

"  It  is  not  English  society,  then,  that  y&u  think  so  superior 
to  ours  ? "'  asked  Mrs.  Stichen. 

"  No,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  from  what  little  I  have  seen, 
that,  compare  the  two,  set  by  set,  and  class  by  class,  they 
are  about  even.  The  American  women  dress  better,  and 
dance  better;  and  the  exceptional  women  here  talk  as  well  as 
the  exceptional  women  there,  and  the  rest  prattle,  or  gossip, 
or  gabble  about  alike  ;  well  or  ill,  just  as  you  please.  As  to 
vulgarity,  I  rather  think  there  is  not  much  to  choose.  You 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


547 


recollect  Becky  Sharp  speaks  of  a  Duchess  as  a  most  vulgar 
woman,  and  Becky  was  a  good  observer.  I  never  shall  for 
get  the  shock  my  youthful  sensibilities  received,  a  good  many 
years  ago,  at  the  old  Club  House  Hotel  in  Gibraltar.  There 
was  a  coarse,  vulgar-looking,  red-faced  old  dowdy,  one  morning, 
standing  in  the  hall  below,  and  in  a  voice  that  would  have 
been  lovely  in  the  driver  of  a  shad-cart,  was  'jawing,' — yes,  that 
is  the  only  word  for  it,  coarse  as  it  is, — was  'jawing'  her  maid, 
who.  up  three  pairs  of  stairs,  was  leaning  over  the  ballustrade, 
and  giving  back  to  her  mistress  about  as  good  as  she  got. 
Who  is  that  horrible  old  woman  ?  said  I.  The  Dowager 

Duchess  of .  Good  Heavens !  one  of  the  best-known 

titles  in  the  peerage  of  Great  Britain." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Boggs,  if  you  should  tell  that  story  to  Mrs.  Slum- 
son,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Stichen,  throwing  up  her  hand  in  a  pretty 
little  affectation  of  terror.  "  You  know  she  thinks  that  we 
must  have  an  aristocracy  here,  and  that  if  we  do,  we  ought  to 
copy  the  English  aristocracy ;  because  the  aristocracy  of 
England  is  a  great  deal  more  aristocratic  than  the  aristocracy 
of  any  other  aristocratic  country." 

"  Oh  Lord  !  I  have  told  her  the  story  half-a-dozen  times." 

"  What  does  she  say  ? " 

"  Why,  she  says  it's  flat  blasphemy,  and  that  I  am  horrid, 
perfectly  horrid,  and  that  if  she  did  not  know  that  I  came  of 
an  aristocratic  family  she  should  think  me  low — very  low. 
Oh,  she's  a  funny  old  piece.  Her  grandfather  kept  an  oyster- 
stand  in  Washington  Market.  Her  father  rose  to  the  dignity 
of  cotton-broker  and  speculator,  failed  three  times,  and,  of 
course,  made  money.  Her  maiden  name  was  Hinny — Kate 
Hinny ;  so  she  traces  a  clear  pedigree  to  Walter  de  Brienne,  who 
became  Duke  of  Apulia  and  King  of  Sicily.  Don't  you  see  B 
always  changes  into  P,  so  Brienne  becomes  Prienne,  and  what 
more  natural  than  that  Prienne  should  become  Prinny  through 
mispronunciation?  Just  look  at  it — it's  as  clear  as  can  be. 
Walter,  surnamed  the  son  of  the  first  Walter,  went  on  a  Cru 
sade,  and  was  captured  and  put  to  death  by  the  Saracens,  in 
1251.  It  is  known  in  the  family  that  he  had  a  son  by  one  of 


548  NEVER    AGAIX. 

those  marriages  common  then,  and  which  \ve  are  coining  to 
now — a  kind  of  limited  liability  concern — a  marriage  pro  tern 
— with  an  Arabian  princess.  Well,  at  his  death  there  was  no 
one  to  look  after  the  child,  and  it  was  taken  in  charge  by  an 
English  Knight  and  brought  home  to  England.  From  him 
came  the  Prynnes,  who  frequently  intermarried  with  the  best 
blood  in  England,  until  the  time  of  James  and  his  son, 
when  William  Prynne,  the  lawyer  and  political  writer,  got  into 
trouble,  had  his  ears  cut  off  by  sentence  of  the  famous  Star 
Chamber,  and  the  name  made  an  object  of  suspicion.  Our 
direct  ancestor,  a  cousin  of  William,  was  Sir  Cantlon  Prynne, 
an  immensely  rich  merchant,  who  sent  out  large  fleets  to  the 
coast  of  Guinea,  from  whence  he  got  the  name  of  Guinea 
Frynne,  and  then  in  the  troubles  of  the  great  revolution  his 
descendants  lost  their  money  and  also  the  last  half  of  the 
name,  their  real  name,  and  became  Ginnys.  Then  followed 
the  emigration  to  America  and  the  phonetic  change  of  G  to  H 
in  the  word  Hinny.  So  that,  although  she  was  called  Kate 
Hinny,  her  real  name  was  Catherine  de  Brienne.  Of  course 
she  has  a  perfect  right  to  style  herself  la  Princesse  de  Sidle  ct 
Comtesse  (T Apulia.  So  she  says,  and  I  don't  know  any  law  to 
prevent  her. 

"  But,  as  I  was  saying,  it  is  not  with  English  fashionable 
society  that  I  would  compare  ours  and  call  it  altogether  a 
humbug,  but  it  is  with  itself  and  its  own  pretensions,  or  rather 
with  society  as  should  be  and  easily  might  be.  The  only  ex 
cuse,  I  take  it,  for  the  existence  in  this  country  of  a  set  or  sets 
pretending  to  be  at  the  head  of  social  life,  is  that  they  really 
fulfil  certain  important  functions  ;  that  they  really  offer  a  higher 
standard  of  elegance  and  culture ;  that  they  really  encour 
age  an  improvement  in  manners  and  stimulate  the  growth  anc 
spread  of  refined  taste.  That  is  their  only  raison  d'Htre.  If 
they  do  not  do  that,  their  exclusiveness  is  an  insolent  preten 
sion  ;  a  contemptible  humbug;  a  big  bag  of  nothing;  a  blad 
der  that  every  decent  man  and  woman  ought  to  kick  till  it 
bursts. 

'  But,  my  dear  Mrs.  Stichen,  I  must  go   now,'1  continued 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


549 


Mr.  Boggs,  rising  from  his  chair.  "  I  am  making  you  a  very 
long  visit.  I  will  come  again  and  hear  your  complaints  about 
society.  You  must  be  getting  a  little  tired  of  it  all — you  have 
been  going  it  so  strongly  this  last  year." 

"  Oh,  I  am  very,  very  tired  of  it,"  replied  Mrs.  Stichen. 
"Do  you  know,  Mr.  Boggs,  that  I  think  that  I  ought  to  have 
been  an  artist  ? " 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Mrs.  Stichen,  you  have  been  reading 
Ruskin." 

"  How  can  you  think  so  ?  I'm  sure  he  would  frighten  all 
such  fancies  out  of  my  head.  No,  I  have  been  reading  the 
life  of  Madame  Le  Brun.  I  thought  I  would  try  a  little." 

"In  oil?" 

"  Oh  !  no  no.  I  am  not  so  bold  as  that  ;  but  I  had  an 
idea  that  I  might  have  more  of  a  talent  for  modelling.  So 
I  sent  for  some  clay,  and  got  Lucca  to  come  and  give  me 
two  or  three  lessons,  and  show  me  how  to  set  things  up. 
My  model  is  rather  restive,  and  I  have  to  watch  my  chances  ; 
fortunately,  I  know  his  head  so  well  that  I  can  work  while  he 
is  away.  Will  you  see  it?  Touch  that  bell  on  the  table." 

Mr.  Boggs  obeyed,  and  instantly  the  little  negro  appeared 
in  the  doorway  leading  to  the  back  rooms  of  the  suit. 

"  Tell  the  waiter  to  go  into  the  bath-room  and  get  me  the 
board  with  the  clay  bust  upon  it." 

"  Tse  bring  it,  Missis." 

"  No,  I  can't  trust  you,  it  is  too  heavy ;  but  you  can  see 
that  John  brings  it  with  great  care  ;  no  shaking,  mind." 

"  How  long,"  demanded  Mr.  Boggs,  "  since  you  have 
taken  to  this  line  ?  " 

"  Oh,  ever  since  my  last  reception.  My  room  had  been 
jammed,  you  recollect;  the  old  folks  had  come  and  gone, 
and  all  had  eaten  and  drunken,  and  the  young  folks,  who 
staid  for  the  German,  had  danced  themselves  out,  and  I 
stood  alone.  Don't  start ;  I  am  not  going  to  quote  Moore's 
lines,  but  I  sat  down  and  thought  to  myself,  what  does  it  all 
amount  to  ?  Stichen  put  his  honest  old  head  into  the  door, 
and  said,  '  Don't  mope,  Lizzie  ;  it's  no  use ;  can't  help  it, 


550  NEVER  AGAf.Y. 

perhaps.  I  can't  always  ;  cleared  fifty  thousand  on  Wabash 
to-day ;  made  me  feel  very  dull.  Life  is  a  game,  Lizzie.'  I 
thought  he  was  going  to  say,  '  Play  well  your  part,  there  all 
the  honor  lies,'  but  he  doesn't  know  Pope.  He  said,  '  Life 
is  a  game.  I  think  you  play  it  about  as  fairly  as  most  of 
'em,  and  when  the  time  comes,  I  don't  believe  you  need  be 
afraid  to  pass  in  your  chips, — if  I  know  anything  about  the 
Being  who  keeps  the  bank.'  I  laughed.  I  know  he  didn't 
mean  any  profanity  by  his  figure,  and  I  told  him  I  wasn't 
thinking  of  the  future, — it  was  the  present  that  bothered  me. 
Stichen  went  off  to  bed,  and  I  sat  and  thought  and  thought,  and 
the  result  was,  that  I  sent  off  for  some  clay  the  next  morn 
ing.  One  must  do  something,  you  know,  except  to  dress  and 
go  to  balls  and  opera,  and  all  that." 

Poor  Mrs.  Stichen !  exclaims  some  one.  Could  she  not 
have  occupied  herself  in  her  religious  duties  ?  Could  she  not 
have  fully  employed  her  time  and  her  money  in  acts  of  benefi 
cence?  And  how  do  you  know  that  she  did  not,  in  such  mat 
ters,  come  up  very  nearly,  if  not  quite,  to  the  mark  of  her  high 
calling,  as  a  rich,  fashionable,  Christian  woman  ?  I  have  said 
nothing  to  the  contrary.  I  only  say  what  I  think,  and  what 
Mr.  Boggs  thought,  but  couldn't  say,  that  if  she  had  had  a  nice 
family  of  children  to  look  after,  she  never  would  have  under 
taken  to  model  Stichen's  bust. 

The  servant  brought  the  thing  in,  and  lifted  the  water 
proof  hood,  disclosing  a  most  wonderful  likeness. 

"  Stichen  himself,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Boggs.  "  But  you  have 
made  him  look  too  handsome.  You  have  idealized  too  much." 

"  No,  he  looks  like  that  to  me.  I  see  all  that  I  have  put 
there,  in  him." 

Mr.  Boggs  took  a  long,  steady  look,  and  as  he  looked  an 
undefined  feeling  grew,  and  grew,  until  it  expanded  into  a  full 
blaze  of  jealousy.  Jealous  of  Stichen  ?  Bah !  and  yet  if  his 
wife  really  saw  him  in  that  light — and  perhaps,  after  all,  that 
was  the  real  light  in  which  to  look  at  his  common  and  comical 
mug — the  feeling  might  not  be  so  unwarranted  or  ridiculous. 

Mr.  Boggs  almost  repented  himself  of  any  forbearance  in 


NEVER  AGAIN: 


-551 


the  case.  Yes,  he  would,  he  certainly  would  make  what  no 
one  knew  better  how  to  make,  earnest,  but  cool,  crafty,  unscru 
pulous,  and  irresistible  love.  And  yet  what  nonsense,  to  knock 
under  to  the  devil  so  soon  •  and  when  he  had  just  resolved  to 
resist  him  to  the  uttermost !  Would  it  be  right? — would  it  be 
generous  ? — would  it  be  honorable  ? 

Some  of  us,  occupying  that  vantage-ground  of  virtue  which 
gives  us  the  undoubted  right  to  denounce — shall  I  say  the  vani 
ties  and  follies  ?  oh  no,  worse  than  that — the  crimes  and  vices 
of  fashionable  life,  may  well  doubt  whether  a  society-man  could 
stop  to  ask  himself  such  questions.  But  the  statement  is 
strictly  true,  and,  perhaps,  in  the  interests  of  art,  a  pity  'tis  'tis 
true,  for  no  one  cares  for  a  tale  with  not  a  real  villain  in  it, 
and  Mr.  Boggs  would  have  been  so  much  more  interesting,  so 
much  more  shocking  and  horrid,  and  every  way  a  more  satis 
factory  character,  as  the  unscrupulous  and  successful  lover  of 
Mrs.  Stichen. 

Mr.  Boggs  seized  his  hat  and  stick,  forced  himself  to  a 
little  flourish  about  art,  made  his  adieus  in  his  usual  style,  and 
rushed  into  the  street. 

"  D — n  the  thing,"  he  exclaimed  to  himself,  but  in  quite 
an  audible  tone.  "  I  wish  it  was  night  and  the  row  had  begun. 
I  hope  to  heavens  those  fellows  will  show  fight,  and  give  us  a 
bloody  good  time  of  it." 

You  don't  think  that  is  very  elegant  language  for  the  ele 
gant  Mr.  Boggs  !  You  don't,  eh  ?  Wait,  my  dear  sir,  until 
you  are  in  a  similar  case,  with  the  fiend  tugging  and  jerking 
at  your  heart-strings,  and  trying  to  trip  you  up,  and  let  us 
know,  then,  how  nicely  you  choose  words,  or  how  delicately 
you  let  off  pent-up  feeling. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

The    Amateur  Police   at   Work  —  Reconnoitring  —  The   Fight  —  Madame 
Steignitz  found. 

"  I  "HE  evening  set  in  dark,  dismal,  and  gusty.  The  wind 
-L  was  not  so  very  strong,  but  it  came  in  puffs,  and  howled 
horribly.  The  phenomenon  of  cats  and  dogs  is  generally  sup 
posed  to  accompany  only  the  rain.  It  did  not  rain,  but  cats 
and  dogs,  and  a  variety  of  wild  animals,  could  be  distinctly 
heard  in  the  blast. 

It  did  not  rain,  but  it  threatened  to  do  so  before  morning. 
And  that  was  just  the  observation  made  by  Mr.  Whoppers,  as, 
with  his  three  companions,  he  started  from  Miss  Jones'  board 
ing-house  to  go  round  to  the  house  in  Wooster  Street. 

"  It  don't  rain,  but  the  fellows  above  have  clearly  got  out 
their  water-pitchers,  and  they'll  pitch  it  into  us  before  morn 
ing.  There,  don't  you  hear  that  ?  It  says  as  plainly  as  ever 
did  a  top-floor  lodger  in  the  olden  time,  '  Look  out,  below  there 
—  gare  reau."1  " 

"  It  won't  rain  till  the  wind  gets  a  little  more  southing  in 
it,"  said  the  Captain,  looking  up  at  the  dark,  scudding  masses 
of  cloud. 

"Well,  I'm  glad  of  that.  I  hope  the  southing  will  stay  at 
home  for  a  while.  Just  now  it  would  make  those  slates  slip 
pery.  I  don't  want  to  be  presented  with  my  last  account  on 
one  of  them.  I  can  wait  for  death.  I  have  no  desire  to  be 


Mr.  Boggs,  with  Luther,  went  on  and  entered  the  house. 
The  Captain  and  Mr.  Whoppers  followed  in  a  few  moments, 
after  first  passing  and  repassing  the  length  of  the  block,  and 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


553 


making  a  thorough  reconnoissance  of  the  suspected  house,  and 
satisfying  themselves  that  not  a  ray  of  light  came  from  any  of 
the  front  rooms.  Luther  holding  the  door  ajar,  they  slipped 
in  without  notice,  apparently,  from  any  one.  In  fact,  at  that 
time  of  the  evening,  and  the  weather  threatening  rain,  there 
were  but  few  passers,  and  no  loungers,  in  the  street — the  neigh 
boring  grog-shops  had  too  many  attractions. 

Further  consultation  was  unnecessary,  and  the  only  addi 
tional  preparation  was  on  the  part  of  the  Captain.  He  had 
brought  with  him,  in  his  hand,  a  coil  of  half-inch  rope.  This 
he  deliberately  proceeded  to  wind  around  his  waist  in  several 
turns.  Luther  held  the  candle,  and  all  looked  on  inquiringly. 

"  I  never  knew  the  harm,"  said  the  Captain,  "  of  having  a 
piece  of  rope  about  you.  That  is,  about  your  body.  I  don't 
mean  about  your  neck.  That  can't  be  so  pleasant." 

Mr.  Whoppers,  for  once,  neglected  to  put  in  any  jocular 
remark  ;  and  the  party  crept  carefully  upstairs,  lighted  by 
one  solitary  candle,  which  did  little  more  than  break  the  gloom 
of  the  deserted  house  into  masses  of  dark  shadows,  which 
darted  in  and  out  of  the  empty  rooms,  and  stalked  along  the 
halls,  and  ran  up  and  down  the  stairs  in  a  very  weird  and 
ghost-like  manner.  The  rickety  stairs  creaked  and  groaned 
at  every  step ;  a  party  of  rats,  cut  off  by  this  unexpected  inva 
sion  of  their  premises  from  their  retreat  in  the  cellar,  scamp 
ered  about  in  every  direction,  squeaking  their  anger  and  dis 
may.  The  ill-fastened  and  ill-fitted  windows,  and  broken- 
slatted  Venetian  blinds  rattled  and  flapped,  as  if  a  thousand 
angry  spirits  of  the  air  were  knocking  for  admission.  And 
enter  some  of  them  did,  through  a  broken  pane  over  the  front 
door,  and  made  a  desperate  attack  upon  the  light  that  Luther 
carried. 

"  Where  is  our  lantern  ?  A  candle  is  not  the  thing  for 
this  kind  of  work,"  muttered  the  Captain. 

"  Oh  !  here  it  is,  safe  in  my  pocket,"  replied  Mr.  Boggs; 
but  I  thought  we  would  not  light  it  until  we  need  it  in  the 
other  house." 

"Well,  heave  ahead  then;"  and  the  party  pushed  open 


554 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


the  attic  door,  and  entered  the  room — Luther  first  securing 
his  candle  in  the  outer  garret,  so  that  its  light  should  not  be 
seen  from  the  street,  or  the  flame  be  extinguished  by  the  rush 
of  air  from  the  open  window. 

It  was  no  difficult  thing  to  creep  out  upon  the  low-pitched 
roof;  Luther  leading,  as  he  was  the  lightest  and  most  agile; 
the  Captain  following,  with  sailor-like  activity;  then  Mr.  Boggs, 
and  then  Mr.  Whoppers.  It  was  not  difficult  to  creep  up, 
slowly  and  carefully,  to  the  ridge  of  the  roof;  but  it  would  be 
absurd  to  suppose  that  men  resolved  on  desperate  purpose 
could  attain  such  a  position,  furtively,  noiselsssly  creeping — 
creeping — and  crouching  under  the  shelter  of  murky  night, 
without  some  little  elevation  of  feeling  ;  without  some  slight 
quickening  of  the  heart's  contractions  ;  without  a  certain 
increased  activity  of  the  imagination  ;  without  that  slight  degree 
of  apprehension  that  touches — just  touches — the  border-land 
of  fear,  but  is  quite  consistent  with  perfect  coolness.  How 
many  a  gallant  fellow  has  felt  it,  mounting  into  almost  an  agony 
of  pleasure,  in  night  assaults  or  cuttings-out.  Just  fancy  the 
stealthy  step, — the  low  "  Hist, — tread  carefully  men, — no  noise 
in  the  ranks  !  close  up !  close  up !  " — and  then  the  rush,  and 
the  wild  ringing  shout, — the  clash  of  steel, — the  livid  flashes, — 
the  rattle  of  musketry, — and  the  groans  !  Oh  yes,  don't  leave 
out  the  groans  from  the  picture.  Or,  in  another  case,  the 
restless  sea,  panting  and  sighing,  as  dark  night  settles  down 
upon  its  bosom — the  soft  swish  of  the  boats  at  each  impulse 
from  vigorous  arms — the  low  chafing  of  the  muffled  oars — the 
orders  in  bated  breath — the  occasional  splash — "  Take  care, 
you  lubber — feather  your  oar  more  smoothly — you  have 
alarmed  them  ! — they  hear  us  ! — they  see  us  ! — give  way,  my 
hearties  ! — pull,  men  ! — pull  your  d — dest! — hurrah  !  " — and 
then  the  wild  scramble  up  the  sides  and  over  the  bulwarks, 
with  pistols  and  blunderbusses  flashing  in  your  face,  and  a 
dozen  pike-heads  thrusting  and  picking  away  at  your  very 
eyes  ! 

I  declare,  as  I  sit  now  before  the  flickering  fire,  in  dress 
ing-gown  and  slippers,  with  a  mild  Havana  in  my  mouth,  and 


NEVER  AGAIN.  555 

with  the  option  of  a  little  old  Golconda  or  Blackbourn,  in  case 
of  necessity,  and  critically  examine  and  estimate  matters  from 
a  position  which  any  one  must  admit  is  eminently  favorable 
for  a  calm  judgment,  I  cannot  conceive  any  pleasure  in  life 
greater,  unless,  it  may  be,  that  of  a  good,  bold,  daring  burglary. 
However,  it  would  not,  perhaps,  be  best  to  speak  too  strongly 
on  this  point.  Burglary,  in  the  abstract,  may  be  delightful, 
but  yet  in  practice  lack  some  of  the  charms  with  which  an 
ardent  imagination  invests  it.  The  ideal  burglar  is,  in  fact, 
rare;  and  the  actual  burglar  may,  perhaps,  necessarily,  take 
such  a  business  view  of  things,  and  have  his  mind  so  closely 
set  upon  his  prospective  swag,  as  to  be  precluded  many  of  the 
finer  and  more  aesthetical  emotions. 

Slowly  and  noislessly  the  party  worked  its  way  over  the 
intervening  roofs — each  one  hiding  himself  as  much  as  he 
could  from  any  possible  view  from  the  street,  by  crouching 
low  on  the  back  slope  of  the  roo". 

"  Keep  down,  Whoppers,"  whispered  Mr.  Boggs;  "  you'll 
certainly  be  seen.  Devil  take  it,  man,  did  you  never  stalk  a 
deer  ?  " 

"  Oh  dear,  no  ;  you're  the  fellow  to  stalk  the  dears.  But 
you're  right ;  '  I'll  stalk  behind  thee  like  a  witches'  fiend 
pressing  to  be  employed.'  And,  by-the-by,  that  reminds  me 
I've  got  a  conundrum." 

"  Oh,  d — n  your  conundrums  !  " 

"  Well,  then,  I  won't  put  it  in  that  form.  A  simple  obser 
vation  merely,  which,  as  a  member  of  the  Traveller's  Club,  you 
will  appreciate.  This  would  be  safer  work  on  the  roof  of 
some  house  in  Holland." 

"  Pshaw  !     They  are  all  ten  times  as  steep." 

"Yes,  but  then  they  are  used  to  storks." 

Mr.  Boggs'  smothered  objurgation,  with  a  faint  chuckle 
from  the  Editor,  was  borne  away  upon  a  gust,  that  compelled 
them  all  to  lie  flat  and  motionless  until  it  had  passed. 

Arrived  at  the  right  house,  Luther,  according  to  agreement, 
crept  down  first  to  examine  the  windows,  and  to  make  sure 
that  there  was  no  one  in  the  rooms.  Cautiously  he  put 


556  NEVER  AGAIN. 

his  head  around  the  window  frame,  so  as  to  look  within.  He 
recollected  the  glimpse  that  he  had  got  of  the  horrible 
visage  looking  into  the  window  of  Madame  Steignitz' 
room,  and  at  first  he  was  very  careful  not  to  expose  too  much 
of  his  own  face.  Gradually  he  leaned  forward  until  he  could 
command  the  entire  view.  *'  Dark  as  Erebus,"  he  mut 
tered.  He  could  see  nothing,  but  slowly  the  darkness 
melted  a  little,  and  he  fancied  that  he  could  see  the  outlines 
sufficiently  to  make  sure  that  the  room  was  empty.  Still, 
he  looked,  and  listened,  and  waited.  There  could  be  no 
doubt  of  it ;  at  any  rate  he  would  try  the  window. 

He  crept  around  in  front,  supporting  himself  with  his 
feet  in  the  gutter.  He  could  not  help  a  slight  shudder  when 
he  thought  what  a  nice  mark  he  must  now  present  for  a 
pistol-shot  from  within  the  room,  or  how  easy  it  would  be  for 
a  strong  man  to  suddenly  throw  up  the  window  and  push 
him  into  the  court  below. 

Twisting  himself  around  so  that  he  could  use  his  hands 
freely,  he  tried  the  window. 

"  I  suppose  we  shall  have  to  force  it,"  he  mattered.  "  It 
would  be  too  good  luck  to  find  it  unfastened." 

It  resisted  at  first,  but  readily  gave  way  to  a  little  more 
force.  He  pushed  it  up  to  its  catch,  and  stepped  into  the 
room,  which  was  of  the  usual  size  and  pattern,  and  entirely 
empty. 

Luther  listened  intently.  He  fancied  that  he  heard  the  noise 
of  voices,  and  he  was  going  to  open  the  door  leading  into  the 
garret,  when  he  suddenly  bethought  him  that  the  rush  of  air 
down  stairs  from  the  open  window  might  give  an  alarm.  He 
had  better  get  back  and  summon  his  comrades  before  going 
further. 

But  first  he  must  examine  the  adjoining  window  and  room. 
This  examination,  made  with  the  same  precautions,  resulted  in 
the  conviction  that  it,  too,  was  unoccupied,  but,  the  window 
being  more  securely  fastened,  he  was  unable  to  enter. 

A  good  half  hour,  and  more,  had  been  spent  in  these 
preliminary  explorations,  and  the  party  above  were  getting  a 


NEVER  AGAIN.  557 

little  impatient,  especially  as  the  temperature  was  falling, 
and  the  weather  growing  quite  "shivery,"  as  Mr.  Whoppers 
called  it. 

"  I  say,  Captain,"  and  the  Captain  had  to  stretch  himself 
with  difficulty  by  Mr.  Boggs  in  order  to  catch  Mr.  Whoppers 
communication.  "  I  say,  Captain,  you  need  not  say  '  shiver 
my  timbers'  up  here." 

"  Pshaw  !     I  never  do  talk  such  nonsense." 

"  Well,  don't  you  do  it.  It  isn't  necessary,  for  if  we  wait 
here  much  longer,  what  with  the  fright  and  cold,  my  timbers 
will  shiver  themselves.  Ah,  there  is  Luther,  and  it's  high  time 
up  here — the  highest  time  I've  seen  in  a  long  time.  So  you 
got  into  the  dormer?  Well,  we  thought  you  had  got  into  the 
dormant,  too,  you  staid  so  long." 

"  Do  stop  your  everlasting  chatter." 

"  Can't !  It's  the  weather — the  confounded  thing  chatters 
of  itself,  whether  or  no  :  but  lead  on,  I'll  slope  after  you." 

The  party  quietly  slid  clown  the  roof,  and  following  Luther 
through  the  open  window,  entered  the  room.  A  moment 
or  two  they  stood  listening.  No  alarm  in  any  quarter — not 
even  a  window  raised  in  any  of  the  five  or  six  intervening 
houses — not  a  sound  except  the  noise  of  the  wind  and  the 
beating  of  their  own  hearts. 

The  window  was  carefully  closed,  and  Mr.  Boggs  produced 
his  lantern,  but  the  difficulty  was  to  light  it  without  sending  a 
glimmer  through  the  glass.  Luther,  with  ready  inventiveness, 
whipped  off  his  coat,  and  placing  the  lantern  on  the  floor,  threw 
the  coat  over  it.  Under  this  effectual  cover  he  succeeded  in 
striking  a  match  and  lighting  the  wick  with  hardly  the  escape 
of  a  single  ray. 

And  now  for  the  door,  which  proved  to  be  locked  from  the 
further  side.  Fortunately  the  lock  was  on  the  inside,  and  was 
one  of  the  commonest  kind.  Luther  was  prepared  for  the 
emergency.  The  slightest  gleam  of  the  lantern  showed  two 
screws  holding  the  bolt-latchet.  He  produced  a  screw-driver, 
and  in  half  a  minute  they  were  out,  the  bolt  free,  and  the  door 
slowly  and  carefully  opened. 


558  NEVER  AGAIN. 

Nothing  but  a  wide,  open,  and  empty  garret,  with  a  narrow 
pair  of  stairs  leading  down  to  the  floor  below. 

Cautiously,  but  not  without  a  creaking  of  the  loose  boards, 
they  crept  to  the  head  of  the  stairs  andJistened.  There  were 
sounds  of  voices,  evidently  men's  voices,  and  they  seemed  to 
come  up  from  the  parlor  floor  ;  and  there  was  an  occasional 
sound,  like  a  woman's  voice,  that  apparently  came  from  the 
first  floor  below.  A  feeble  glimmer  of  light,  so  faint  as  barely 
to  reveal  the  intensity  of  the  darkness,  seemed  to  come  from 
some  one  of  the  rooms  on  the  same  floor. 

A  consultation,  and  it  was  decided  that  Luther  should 
again  go  on  first  and  reconnoitre. 

"  Give  me  time  enough  this  time,"  he  whispered,  "  and 
don't  you  begin  to  be  impatient  under  half  an  hour  at  least." 

"  Take  your  time,  Miss  Lucy,"  hummed  quite  audibly  Mr. 
Whoppers,  and  would  perhaps  have  continued  in  a  louder  tone 
if  he  had  not  felt  Mr.  Boggs'  powerful  fingers  closing  upon  his 
arm  with  no  gentle  force. 

The  lighest  step  could  not  have  prevented  the  rickety  stairs 
from  creaking,  but  fortunately  the  wind  made  all  kinds  of  com 
mingling  noises. 

Arrived  at  the  last  step — all  was  silent  on  that  floor.  Even 
the  glimmer  of  light  had  disappeared,  and  he  was  compelled 
to  slightly  raise  the  slide  of  his  lantern  to  show  him  the  turn 
of  the  stairs  going  down  to  the  parlor  floor,  and  to  let  him  see 
if  there  was  any  obstruction  in  his  path. 

He  leaned  over  the  railing,  and  looked  down  into  the 
dark  hall,  and  listened.  Decidedly,  there  were  men  in  the 
parlor.  He  could  hear  their  voices  distinctly.  They  were 
speaking  in  quite  loud  tones.  He  could  almost  distinguish  the 
words.  He  heard  the  clink  of  glasses,  and  there  was  a  strong 
odor  of  tobacco  pervading  the  air. 

He  must  venture  down,  and  try  and  make  out  something 
from  their  conversation  that  might  serve  as  a  clue. 

As  he  descended,  the  voices  became  louder.  The  con 
versation  was  evidently  growing  more  animated,  and  the  tones 
less  muffled  and  indistinct.  He  stopped  mid-way  on  the 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


559 


stairs  just  where  his  head  cleared  the  ceiling,  and  leaned 
across  the  ballusters.  He  could  almost  reach  across  the  nar 
row  hall,  and  touch  the  door. 

"  Bah  !  "  exclaimed  a  voice  that  Luther  could  not  recog 
nize  as  belonging  to  either  of  the  three,  with  which  he  was 
familiar.  "You  should  have  consulted  me  :  I  could  have  told 
you  that  , there  could  be  no  magot.  This  is  not  the  count r\ 
for  that  thing — I  don't  believe  she  ever  trusted  herself  with  ;. 
dollar  over  night.  Everything  she  has  is  invested,  or  deposi 
ted,  and  if  you  had  her  bank-book,  or  a  check  signed  by  her 
self,  it  would  do  no  good.  You  couldn't  get  a  dollar  on  it. 
It  is  too  late." 

A  jumble  of  oaths,  exclamations,  and  questions  followed, 
amid  which  Luther  recognized  the  deep  voice  of  the  one  they 
called  Brochu. 

"  Why  ? "  replied  the  first  speaker.  "  I'll  tell  you  why — 
because  they  have  all  been  warned  of  her  disappearance. 
That  young  fellow  has  been  busy  with  the  police,  you  admit. 
Do  you  suppose  he  has  not  put  her  bankers  and  brokers  on 
their  guard  ? " 

"  Sacre  matin ! "  ejaculated  Brochu.  "  *Je  reglerai  mon 
compte  avec  cet  brouillon  M." 

"  Fiche  avcc  tes  menaces  en  fair!  "  exclaimed  the  voice  of 
Monsieur  Ricord.  "We  have  enough  to  do  to  get  out  of  this 
scrape.  We  can't  put  her  back  again." 

"  No,  and  if  we  did  we  should  all  be  arrested  in  twenty- 
four  hours.  She's  vindictive,  that  old  witch.  I  think  I  should 
prefer  Cayenne  again  to  Sing  Sing." 

"  The  thing  is  simple  enough,"  rejoined  the  first  speaker. 
"  She's  almost  dead  already  !  Well  then" — and  the  voices 
assumed  so  low  a  tone  that  Luther  could  only  catch  now  and 
then  a  word.  But  those  words  were  enough  to  outline  a  pic 
ture  that  fancy  readily  filled  up.  "  C'est  bien  facile — coupe  de 
Monsieur  le  Docteur — une  malade — comprenez — dedans — vite — 
au  bout — anqiiantibme  rue — une  fois — dans  Veau — c'est  fini. 
Demain  soir?  Non  !  non  ! — -pas  de  temps  a  perdre" 

Such  were  the  words  that  came  to  Luther's  ear,  mingled 


560  NEVER  AGAIN. 

with  a  good  many  others  which  he  could  not  have  distin 
guished,  perhaps,  even  if  they  had  been  in  English.  But  he 
had  heard  enough  to  make  his  heart  beat  still  quicker,  and 
to  start  the  big  beads  of  sweat  upon  his  brow. 

A  fierce  oath  from  Brochu,  and  a  sudden  slapping  down 
of  his  glass  upon  the  marble  mantel-piece,  arrested  the  con 
versation  for  an  instant. 

"  So  it  comes  to  this — we  are  to  have  all  this  trouble  for 
nothing,"  he  exclaimed.  "  The  cursed  old  witch  !  I  don't 
mind^making  an  end  of  her,  but  who  wants  to  run  so  much 
risk  and  get  nothing  for  his  pains  ?  It's  all  very  well  for 
Monsieur  Ricord  here,  who  loses  only  his  famous  gun,  or  for 
the  Doctor,  who  may  have  to  put  off  presenting  his  com 
pliments  at  the  'brickyard,'  but  for  me — I  lose  everything. 
Murder  is  too  cheap  when  it's  done  for  nothing  at  all." 

"  Hush  !  you  use  ugly  words,  my  friend.  There  is  no 
use  in  getting  provoked.  It  is  too  late  to  go  back  now, 
and  the  thing  can  be  made  to  pay  yet  if  we  work  it  right." 

"  How  so  ? " 

"  Why,  don't  you  see,  as  long  as  she  lives  we  can  get  no 
money,  but  once  dead,  and  her  body  fished  up  out  of  the 
river,  we  can  manufacture  an  heir.  It  will  take  a  little  time, 
it  is  true,  but  it  can  be  done.  She  hasn't  a  relation  in  the 
world — no  one  to  contradict  us,  unless  it  may  be  that  young 
fellow,  and  if  he  gets  in  the  way,  why  we  must  knock  him 
out  of  it,  if  we  have  to  knock  his  head  off  to  do  it." 

"  I  see.     The  thing  is  feasible,  but  there  are  difficulties." 

"  Certainly,  there  are  always  difficulties,  but  they  can  be 
got  over.  I  have  a  nephew,  a  dirty  little  blackguard,  but  he'd 
make  a  good  heir  for  the  old  one.  Listen  now,"  and  there 
was  some  movement  and  a  shuffling  of  feet,  and  Luther  con 
cluded  that  the  party  had  drawn  closer  together,  especially  as 
the  voices  fell,  and  the  conversation  came  to  his  ear  so  indis 
tinctly  that  he  could  make  nothing  of  it  further. 

He  drew  back  from  his  uncomfortable  position  and  straight 
ened  himself  up.  What  should  he  do?  It  was  time  for  him 
to  go  back  to  the'  garret,  but  he  had  not  as  yet  received  the 


NEVER   AGAIN.  561 

slightest  indication  as  to  the  room  in  which  Madame  Steignitz 
must  be  confined. 

Perhaps,  however,  she  was  not  in  the  house,  and  yet  where 
else  could  she  be?  She  must  be  found,  and  that  at  once. 
There  was  clearly  no  time  to  be  lost.  A  night,  an  hour,  might 
seal  her  fate. 

Luther  could  hardly  keep  himself  from  groaning  out.  He 
could  have  shouted  aloud  in  his  agony  of  impatience  and 
apprehension.  He  felt  a  desperate  impulse  to  dash  himself 
against  the  door  behind  which  the  conspirators  were  concoct 
ing  their  foul  plans,  but  he  restrained  himself  with  effort.  He 
controlled  the  tension  of  his  muscles,  straining  to  explode  into 
immediate  and  unwise  action.  He  set  his  teeth,  and  shrank 
himself  in  upon  himself,  as  it  were,  to  confine  the  sense  of 
intense,  powerful  anxiety  that  threatened  each  instant  to  over 
master  sense  and  will. 

What  should  he  do  ?  If  he  went  back  to  his  companions — 
what  should — what  could — he  tell  them  to  do  ? 

He  turned,  and  made  a  step  or  two  upward.  This  brought 
his  head  on  a  level  with  the  floor  above. 

Ha  !  there  was  that  glimmer  of  light  again.  The  light 
he  had  first  seen,  upon  reaching  the  stairs  above.  Luther 
stopped,  and  bent  his  head  to  the  floorj  and  waited  and 
watched.  Faint  and  wavering,  but  still  distinct,  it  marked 
its  track  from  beneath  the  door  of  the  small  hall  room,  at  the 
back  of  the  house.  And  now  the  light  had  passed  into  the 
adjoining  large  room,  and  gleamed  through  the  ventilating 
window  over  the  door.  It  came  in  flashes,  and  was  evidently 
carried  with  an  effort  at  concealment  in  a  lantern.  But  the 
brightest  flash  was  so  feeble,  that  had  not  Luther's  eyes  been 
rendered  unusually  sensitive  by  the  long  darkness  they  had 
been  enduring,  it  might  almost  have  passed  unnoticed. 

If  that  door  should  open  now,  he  would  clearly  be  caught 
between  two  fires,  or  rather  two  lights,  and  be  cut  off  from  the 
stairway  leading  to  the  attic.  But,  at  any  and  all  risks,  he 
must  know  what  was  in  that  room.  Once  make  sure  that 
Madame  Steignitz  was  in  there,  and  the  course  was  plain. 
36 


562  NEVER  AGAIN. 

They  would  make  a  rush,  burst  in  the  door,  secure  the  old 
woman,  and  while  one  of  them  carried  her  up  and  off  over 
the  roof,  the  other  three  could  defend  the  stair-head,  even  if 
there  were  half-a-dozen  or  more  men,  as  Luther  suspected,  in 
the  parlor  below.  The  fight  could  not  last  long,  however 
desperate  the  conspirators.  They  would  be  afraid  of  alarm 
ing  the  police,  and  of  being  taken  in  the  rear. 

It  is  useless  to  say  that  Luther's  step  was  stealthy.  His 
feet  had  been  slippered  for  the  purpose,  and  even  a  careless 
step  could  have  made  no  noise  that  would  not  have  been 
drowned  in  the  rattling  of  the  loose  windows,  and  the  flap 
ping  and  creaking  of  the  broken  blinds. 

He  gained  the  door.  There  was  no  crack,  and  through 
the  key-hole  he  could  see  nothing.  There  were  but  two  ways  ; 
either  open  the  door  and  look  in,  or  take  a  look  through  the 
ventilating-window  above.  The  door  was  probably  locked, 
and  any  attempt  upon  it  would  give  a  premature  alarm. 

The  moulding  above  the  door  was  broad,  strong,  and  just 
within  reach  of  his  fingers. 

Luther  was  a  good  gymnast,  and  he  found  no  difficulty  in 
drawing  himself  up  without  touching  the  door  with  toe  or  knee, 
and  holding  himself  steadily  for  more  than  a  minute  in  a  posi 
tion  to  command  a  good  view  of  all  in  the  room. 

A  common  tin  lantern,  with  a  candle  in  it,  stood  upon  the 
mantel.  There  was  no  other  place  for  it  to  stand,  as  the  room 
was  destitute  of  furniture — not  a  chair  or  table — nothing  but 
one  low  wooden  bench,  standing  nearly  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  and  a  heap  of  bedding,  or  a  pile  of  old  clothes,  either, 
or  perhaps  both,  in  one  corner. 

Upon  the  bench  sat  a  woman,  with  one  elbow  on  her  knee, 
and  supporting  her  head  with  her  hand,  while  the  other  arm 
fell  listlessly  by  her  side.  She  was  dressed  in  a  light-blue 
silk.  A  stronger  light  would  probably  have  shown  that  it 
had  seen  much  service,  but  it  would  also  have  shown  that  it 
fitted  nicely,  and  had  been  cut  in  good  styles  A  stronger 
light  would  have  shown  that  the  black  hair  had  been  coiffed 
with  a  strange  cave  and  art,  for  the  occupant  of  such  a  miser- 


NEVER  AGAIN.  563 

able,  empty  house,  and  vacant  room,  but,  as  it  was,  the  gleam 
from  the  open  door  of  the  lantern,  falling  full  upon  her  face, 
revealed  to  Luther's  sharp  eyes  enough  to  excite  his  wonder 
and  curiosity. 

She  was  not  handsome — perhaps  never  had  been,  although 
that  hollow  cheek,  and  those  pinched  features  might  once 
have  been  attractive,  and,  assisted  by  the  gleam  of  bright  eyes 
and  the  flash  of  white  teeth,  the  whole  face  might  have  been 
piquant  and  interesting.  It  would  have  been  difficult  for  a 
man  more  experienced  in  women's  ways  than  Luther  to  have 
judged  of  her  age.  She  might  be  thirty — perhaps  five  years 
older — perhaps  two  or  three  years  less.  Who  can  tell  the 
age  of  a  Frenchwoman  who  has  passed  her  fifth  lustrum  ? 

She  sat  motionless,  lost  in  revery,  and  her  thoughts,  it 
was  plain  to  see,  were  not  pleasant.  How  could  they  be  ? 
It  needed  no  remorse— no  stings  of  conscience,  to  make  them 
bitter.  The  accidents  of  fortune,  the  hard  contrasts  of  now 
and  then,  were  enough  to  excite  the  mingled  emotions  of 
regret,  despair,  and  hate.  The  very  contemplation  of  past 
joys  sometimes  fills  the  soul  with  bitterness.  Should  we 
wonder  that  one  who  has  passed  through  the  various  stages 
of  demi-monde  life  can  hardly  contain  herself  when  sitting 
forlorn,- surrounded  only  by  bare  walls,  in  a  miserable  house 
in  Wooster  Street,  and  thinking  of  her  dearly  loved  Paris,  and 
all  its  pleasures?  When  thinking  of  her  first  engagement  at 
the  Cafe  Chantant  in  the  Champs  Elyse'e,  when  she  sang  her 
"  Me  void! — une  autre  pucelle  D*  Orleans"  after  Therese  had 
given  her  Femme  d  barbe,  and  always  got  a  round  of  applause  : 
or  when  thinking  of  the  drives  in  the  Bois  ;  and  the  excur 
sions  to  Vincennes ;  and  balls  at  the  Opera ;  and  the 
jolly  little  dinners  here,  there,  and  everywhere  ;  and  that  par 
ticular  supper  in  that  little  entresol  cabinet  of  the  Cafe'  An 
glais,  when  she  made  Larken, — the  rich  young  American,  who 
had  not  much  money,  but  who  luckily  had  less  brains,  and 
who,  by  dint  of  a  jumbling  up  of  the  ideas  of  income  and  prin 
cipal,  contrived  for  a  few  months  to  raise  a  very  considerable 
ripple  on  the  surface  of  a  certain  portion  of  Parisian  society 


564  NEVER  AGAIN. 

— when  she  made  him  promise  to  take  her  on  that  trip  to 
Baden  and  Homburg,  where  he  lost  three  hundred  thousand 
francs,  and  the  Director  of  the  play  gave  him  twenty  francs  to 
take  them  to  Frankfort,  where  she  sold  her  diamond  pin  for 
the  rest  of  their  journey  to  Paris, — and  then,  oh,  then,  came  a 
step  down  the  ladder !  but,  oh,  the  mad  delights  of  Mabille 
and  Valentino  ;  and  now  this  stupid  country,  with  poverty, 
ill  health,  and  the  brutal  companionship  of  Monsieur  Brochu. 

Luther  hung,  bat-like,  by  his  finger-tips  in  silence ;  con 
templating  this  apparently  only  person  in  the  room.  But 
suddenly  the  bundle  of  bedding  stirred  in  the  corner,  an 
arm  was  thrust  out  with  a  feeble  moan,  and  the  conviction 
darted  on  his  mind  that  there  lay  the  object  of  his  search. 
The  body  there  in  the  corner,  of  course,  could  belong  to  no 
one  else. 

He  still  waited  an  instant,  although  his  fingers,  strong 
and  supple  as  they  were,  were  on  the  point  of  failing  him. 

The  young  woman  started  at  the  moan,  and  turned  her 
head  towards  the  corner,  but  did  not  rise  from  her  seat. 

"  Let  her  die,"  she  muttered  in  French.  "  I  can  do  noth 
ing  for  her ;  and  why  should  I  ?  it  is  best  so.  Ah,  man 
Dieu,  I  almost  wish  I  were  in  her  place.'' 

At  this  instant  Luther  was  startled  by  a  sudden  flash  of 
light  directly  behind  him,  and  simultaneously  a  heavy  step 
and  a  muttered  oath.  His  hands  completely  benumbed,  he 
dropped  to  his  feet  and  turned  himself  around  ;  and  there, 
at  the  head  of  the  stairs  in  front  of  him,  at  some  ten  feet 
distance,  stood  a  man  with  a  lantern,  the  light  of  which  he 
had  directed  full  upon  Luther's  person  while  he  was  yet 
hanging  to  the  casing  of  the  door. 

The  dark  figure,  that  of  a  large  and  powerful  man,  was 
clearly  outlined,  but  the  face  was  hidden  in  the  shadow  of 
the  lantern ;  and  more  than  that,  Luther's  eyes  were  dazzled 
by  the  sudden  glare. 

The  next  moment  and  the  door  behind  him  opened,  and 
the  woman  whom  he  had  been  observing  stood  behind  him 
with  the  candle  in  her  hand,  and  the  additional  light  at  once 


NEVER  AGAIN.  565 

revealed  the  repulsive  and  deeply  marked  visage  of  Monsieur 
Brochu. 

A  few  guttural  sounds,  like  the  gruntings  of  an  enraged 
boar  when  about  to  make  a  charge,  came  from  between  the 
clenched  teeth.  But  still  he  moved  not,  and  Luther  had 
time  to  draw  his  club  and  prepare  for  an  attack. 

"It  is  you,  ha  !  I  know  you,  young  one!  I  have  an 
account  to  settle  with  you  !  You  have  been  trying  to  put  the 
police  on  my  heels,  and  now  you  come  here  as  a  spy,  eh  ? 
You  know  the  fate  of  a  spy — of  a  burglar — of  a  thief  ? " 
And  suddenly  the  speaker  withdrew  his  hand  from  his  pocket 
grasping  a  revolver,  and  levelled  it  at  the  young  man's  heart. 

The  movement  was  rapid,  but  not  so  rapid  as  thought, 
and  Luther  had  time  to  think  what  a  fool  he  had  been  not 
to  have  closed  with  him  before.  But  it  was  too  late. 

"  Back,  Lizzette,  back  ;  out  of  my  line,"  hissed  Brochu. 

It  took  but  an  instant  to  utter  the  warning  to  his  mistress, 
but  an  instant  rightly  used  is  sometimes  the  turning-point 
between  life  and  death  ! 

With  the  rapidity  of  lightning,  Luther  flung  back  his  arm, 
grasped  the  woman,  swung  her  round  in  front  of  him,  and 
the  next  minute  had  jumped  backward  through  the  doorway 
into  the  room. 

Uttering  a  horrible  imprecation,  Monsieur  Brochu  made  a 
step  or  two  in  advance.  At  that  instant  a  smart  blow  on  his 
hand  from  a  club  behind  him,  knocked  the  pistol  from  his 
grasp,  and  the  next  instant  a  crack  on  the  crown  brought 
him  to  his  knees,  but  he  was  still  able  to  grapple  with  his 
assailant,  the  Captain,  who  was  no  ways  backward  in  accept 
ing  the  invitation  to  close  quarters.  Both  were  powerful 
men,  and  the  struggle  might  have  been  indefinitely  pro 
longed,  or  have  ended  only  in  blood,  as  Brochu  was  striving 
desperately  to  get  at  his  knife,  if  Luther  had^not  come  to 
the  assistance  of  the  Captain. 

"  Hold  on — to — his  starboard  fin — Luth — for  an  instant 
— and  I'll — get — eh — eh — this  noose  on  his  left — and  we'll 
gasket — him  up  so  tight — that — there — ugh — ugh — "  and  the 


566  NEVER  AGAIN. 

Captain  tugged,  and  talked,  and  grunted, — "  so  tight  that  he 
may  blow  as  much  as  he  pleases,  and  he  won't  be  able  to 
show  an  inch  of  sail."  And  suiting  the  action  to  the  word, 
the  Captain  whipped  off  the  rope  from  around  his  own  body, 
and  coiled  it,  and  knotted,  and  double  knotted  it  about  the 
arms,  wrists,  and  legs  of  the  struggling  giant,  with  a  rapid  dex 
terity  that  no  one  but  a  trained  seaman  could  have  equalled. 

And  all  this  time  Lixzette  stood  looking  on,  as  rigid  as  a 
cataleptic,  and  holding  the  candle  aloft  as  if  her  sole  business 
was  to  light  up  the  battle-ground,  which,  illuminated  alone  by 
Brochu's  lantern,  would  have  been  gloomy  enough.  As  they 
finished,  and  Luther  jumped  away  to  join  in  the  terrible  melee 
that  was  going  on  behind  them,  a  tremendous  crash  of  ballus- 
ters  and  staircase  was  added  to  the  infernal  din  arising  from 
the  desperate  struggles  of  powerful  men  in  so  narrow  a  space. 

At  the  first  loud  oath  from  Brochu,  the  party  assembled  in 
the  parlor  below  had  sallied  into  the  hall.  At  the  instant 
the  Captain  had  struck  the  pistol,  which  exploded  as  it  fell, 
they  made  a  rush  for  the  stairs.  The  large  man  known  as 
the  Doctor  had  succeeded  in  reaching  the  last  step,  when  Mr. 
Boggs  made  a  blow  at  him  with  his  club,  but  the  slope  of  the 
stairs  was  in  the  way,  and  it  was  ineffectual,  and  the  next 
moment  they  had  their  hands  on  each  other's  throats. 

In  the  meantime,  three  or  four  men  were  pressing  their 
way  up  stairs,  but  Mr.  Whoppers  was  just  in  time.  Swinging 
himself  over  from  mid-way  of  the  staircase  above,  he  alighted 
on  the  hall  railing  for  an  instant,  and  from  that  coign  of  van 
tage  dealt  a  heavy  kick  under  the  chin  to  the  foremost,  turn 
ing  him  over  upon  his  companions,  and  sending  them  all  down 
in  a  pile  at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs. 

Again  they  attempted  a  rush,  but  Whoppers  kicked  so 
desperately,  and  struck  out  with  his  club  so  fiercely,  and 
jumped  about  so  nimbly,  and  sputtered  and  swore,  and  quoted 
poetry — something  about 

'•  How  can  a  man  die  better  than  fighting  against  odds, 

For  the  temples  of  his  fathers,  and  the  ashes  of  his  gods," 
that  they  were  beaten  back,  or  held  at  bay. 


NEVER  AGAIN  567 

And  so  the  struggle  between  Mr.  Boggs  and  the  Doctor 
went  on.  But  not  for  long.  The  reader  must  recollect  that 
the  whole  affair  hardly  occupied  two  minutes.  There  are  few 
positions  in  which  men  improve  the  time  more  faithfully  than 
on  such  an  occasion,  and  a  good  deal  of  hard  fighting,  if  it  is 
to  the  death,  can  be  done  in  a  short  time. 

At  the  instant  Luther,  followed  by  the  Captain,  freed 
himself  from  the  grasp  of  the  now  prostrate  and  corded 
Brochu,  and  dashed  to  the  assistance  of  his  companions,  Mr. 
Boggs  had  forced  his  antagonist  against  and  partially  over 
the  railing  of  the  stairs,  and  had  succeeded  in  liberating  his 
right  hand  and  planting  two  or  three  heavy  blows  directly  in 
his  opponent's  face,  when  suddenly  the  railing  gave  way,  and 
over  both  went  head  first  on  to  the  stairs.  Two  or  three  men 
were  borne  down  by  this  tremendous  avalanche  of  humanity, 
and  underneath  the  accumulated  weight  the  staircase  gave  way 
on  one  side  and  they  all  rolled  into  the  hall  below  together. 

This  was  the  turning-point  of  the  fight,  and  all  of  the  con 
spirators  who  could,  gathered  themselves  up  as  quickly  as 
possible  and  rushed  for  the  street  door,  leaving  the  Doctor 
in  the  grip  of  Mr.  Boggs,  who,  even  in  going  head  first  down 
the  stairs,  had  never  loosened  his  hold. 

The  light  streamed  into  the  hall  from  the  open  parlor 
door  and  showed  that  the  Doctor  was  insensible.  Leaving 
Mr.  Whoppers  to  guard  Brochu  and  to  prevent  the  woman  at 
tempting  to  liberate  him,  the  Captain  clambered  down  the 
broken  staircase,  and  in  a  moment  the  Doctor  was  so  securely 
corded  that,  with  returning  animation,  he  had  no  power  to 
renew  the  fight. 

Mr.  Boggs  had  evidently  suffered  the  most  of  any  of  his 
party.  His  coat  was  hanging  by  shreds — his  shirt-bosom 
had  disappeared  entirely,  and  his  face  was  deeply  marked. 

"  Am  I  hurt  much  ?  Why  no,  I  can't  say  that  I  am,"  said 
Mr.  Boggs,  and,  giving  himself  a  shake,  "no  bones  broken,  I 
believe.  Ugh  !  Where  can  all  this  blood  come  from  ? "  he 
exclaimed,  wiping  his  face.  "  I  guess  I'm  pretty  well  marked. 
Shan't  be  able  to  show  for  some  time.  But  I  don't  mind 


568  NEVER  AGAIN. 

that  It's  my  hand  that  is  the  worst.  I've  mashed  it  up  so 
on  that  fellow's  head,  that  I  don't  believe  I'll  be  able  to  touch 
the  piano  for  six  months." 

"  All  right ! "  shouted  Luther,  who  had  darted  up-stairs, 
and,  seizing  the  candle  which  Lizzette  held  in  her  hand,  had 
rushed  to  the  corner  of  the  room  where  lay  the  pile  of  old 
clothes  on  which  he  had  noticed  a  movement. 

A  haggard  figure  supported  itself  on  its  wasted  arm,  in  a 
feeble  effort  to  assume  a  sitting  posture ;  a  pair  of  piercing 
black  eyes  gleamed  out  from  the  wan  and  pinched  face. 
Luther  would  have  known  the  eyes  of  Madame  Steignitz,  even 
if  no  other  feature  had  been  recognizable. 

As  he  knelt  by  her  side,  those  eyes  fairly  blazed  like  black 
diamonds  in  a  death's-head.  She  seized  his  hand,  and  her 
voice  rose  almost  into  a  shriek  :  "  Oh,  man  JDie/t,  que  vous 
ties  bon  I  Cest  mon  petit.  Yes,  it  is  !  it  is  my  little  one.  I 
knew  you  would  come,  I  was  sure  of  it.  I  knew  the  good 
God  would  not  let  them  kill  me  until  I  had  seen  you.  They 
wanted  my  money,  and  they  starved  me  and  beat  me,  but  I 
said  '  No,  I  will  have  it  all — all — every  dollar  for  my  little 
one.'  Oh,  but  God  is  good  to  me.  Yes,  yes,  God  is  a  good 
God.  I  thank  Him.  I  thank  Him." 

The  old  woman's  grasp  relaxed,  and  she  fell  back  utterly 
exhausted. 

"  All  right !  "  shouted  Luther.  "  I  have  found  her  ;  but 
she  is  dying  ;  what  shall  we  do?  I  must  run  for  a  doctor." 

"  Hold  on  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers.  "  Guard  this 
fellow,  and  I'll  run  round  to  the  police-station  ;  I  know  the 
Captain.  I'll  have  him  here  with  some  men  to  secure  our 
captives  in  five  minutes,  and  I'll  bring  a  police-surgeon  with 
me.  Here,  take  this  chap's  pistol,  and  don't  hesitate  to  blow 
his  brains  out  if  he  gets  an  arm  loose  ;  and  look  out  for  the 
girl — she  looks  dazed  and  harmless  now,  but  she  may  give 
trouble  yet." 

Mr.  Whoppers  had  not  far  to  run.  There  was  a  crowd 
beginning  to  collect  around  the  house,  and  upon  opening 
the  door  there  was  the  pitrol  squad  upon  the  steps.  For 


NEVER   AGAIN.  569 

a  block  or  two,  up  and  down,  the  whole  street  was  in  alarm, 
and  before  the  police  could  get  in  and  close  the  door,  there 
was  a  reporter,  note-book  in  hand,  elbowing  his  way  through 
the  crowd. 

A  reinforcement  of  police  arriving,  all  intruders  were 
expelled,  Brochu  and  the  Doctor  unpinioned  and,  with  Liz 
zette,  marched  off  to  the  station. 

The  girl  had  not  uttered  a  word — had  hardly  moved  from 
her  first  position,  at  the  beginning  of  the  fight.  She  had  been 
astonished  and  frightened  into  absolute  silence.  As  they 
led  her  off,  she  seemed  like  one  in  a  dream.  Poor  thing ! 
One  cannot  help  feeling  sorry  for  her.  She  might  be  guilty, 
might  be  degraded,  but  her  fate  was  nevertheless  a  hard  one. 
Hard  to  be  forced  step  by  step  down  the  gradients  of  Pa 
risian  life,  and  then  to  this  dull,  stupid  country,  where  they 
don't  speak  French,  and  there  is  no  Mabille,  no  Jardin  des 
Fleurs,  nothing — nothing — but  the  Black  Crook  ! 

A  little  brandy  and  water  was  the  first  prescription  of  the 
police-surgeon,  and  Luther  darted  down  to  the  French 
restaurant,  estaminet et  saile  de  lillard^  on  the  corner. 

"Non,  non,  you  sail  no  run  away  with  my  tumbler," 
shouted  the  keeper  of  the  den,  as  Luther  started  for  the 
door. 

"There  then,"  and  the  young  man  threw  back  a  ten- 
dollar  bill  as  he  sprang  out  into  the  street. 

An  idea  struck  him  ;  he  turned,  put  his  head  back  into 
the  room,  and  shouted  :  "  Get  a  bowl  of  soup  ready ;  keep 
the  change  if  the  soup  is  ready  in  five  minutes.  I  will  be 
back  after  it." 

The"  bar-keeper  was  morose  and  tired,  and  the  dirty 
waiters,  and  the  greasy  billiard-markers  worn  out  and  sleepy, 
as  it  was  now  past  twelve  o'clock,  but  there  was  something 
in  the  tone  in  which  the  order  was  given,  and  in  the  sight  of 
the  ten-dollar  bill  fluttering  in  the  air,  that  electrified  the 
whole  establishment,  and  set  them  screaming  in  chorus, 
"  Potage  !  Un  potage  sec,  un  pot  age  alter e" 

Perhaps  the  reader  does  not  know  what  a  dry  soup  or  a 


570  NEVER  AGAIN. 

thirsty  soup  is,  and  it  is  quite  possible  that  the  kitchens  in 
Paris  would  plead  guilty  to  similar  ignorance,  the  term  being 
nothing  but  Monsieur  Grandbceufs  translation  of  New  York 
eating-house  slang,  meaning  a  plate  of  soup  to  which  an  ex 
tra  glass  of  hot  water  had  not  been  added,  as  is  usual,  at 
the  moment  of  serving,  to  insure  a  paying  and  proper  degree 
of  dilution  and  heat. 

It  was  a  bright  idea  in  Luther  to  order  it,  for  after 
-administering  the  brandy  and  water  that  was  the  very  next 
thing  the  Doctor  suggested,  and  in  less  than  ten  minutes 
Luther  produced  it,  hot,  strong,  and  odorous,  and  Madame 
Steignitz  was  swallowing  it  with  trembling  voracity,  and 
sensibly  gaining  in  strength  with  every  spoonful. 

"Can  she  be  moved  to  night,  Doctor?"  demanded 
Luther. 

The  Doctor  shook  his  head. 

"Oh  yes,"  cried  Madame.  "Don't  leave  me  here  an 
hour.  I  must  go  out  of  this.  I  will  go  away  from  this.  I 
will  get  back  once  more  to  my  room." 

"  But  I  am  afraid  to  leave  you  in  the  old  room  alone." 

"  No,  no.  I  must  go  back.  There  is  no  danger  for  me 
— none.  You  have  that  horrible  man  safe  in  the  prison.  But 
if  not  he  never  try  again.  He  know  that  he  can  not  get  the 
money  which  I  have  save  for  my  little  one.  Oh,  mon  Dieu, 
but  I  have  been  tempted.  Ten  thousand !  If  I  would 
promise  just  ten  thousand  dollar ;  but  no,  I  would  not,  and 
then  he  struck  me  with  his  fist,  and  then  he  whip  me  with  a 
cravache  till' my  arms  and  back  are  all  blood,  and  then  he  tore 
my  hair,  my  poor  gray  hair,  from  my  head,  and  then  I  had 
nothing  to  eat,  and  then  nothing  to  drink — not  a  drop  of 
water  for  three  whole  days,  but  I  would  not,  I  would  not  rob 
my  little  one,  and  I  would  not  give  such  a  villain  a  sou — pas 
un  soil.  And  now,  oh,  I  must  go.  Oh  !  oh  !  I  cannot  stay 
here.  I  must  to  my  home.  Oh,  take  me  away !  take  me 
away  !  The  good  God  has  sent  you  to  take  me  away.  I  knew 
He  would.  Yes,  yes,  I  knew  He  would.  Blessed  be  His 
name!  " 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


571 


There  was  nothing  else  to  do,  so  Luther  dashed  down  to 
the  restaurant,  and  flourishing  a  handful  of  notes,  a  cane- 
seated  arm-chair,  and  three  or  four  pillows  and  blankets 
were  produced  in  no  time. 

It  is  wonderful  how  many  activities  a  little  money  will 
set  in  motion.  It  is  frequently  said  that  such  or  such  a  thing 
cannot  be  had  for  love  or  money.  The  saying  may  be  true  ; 
it  probably  is  sometimes  true.  It  is  unquestionably  true  of 
many  things  as  far  as  love  is  concerned,  but  just  at  this 
moment  it  is  difficult  to  recall  anything  that  a  man  can't  get 
at  any  hour,  even  at  midnight,  in  New  York  for  money,  if  he 
has  only  plenty  of  it  and  knows  where  to  go. 

Luther  found  upon  his  return  that  his  companions  had 
got  back  from  the  station,  after  seeing  the  prisoners  fairly 
entered  upon  the  police  records,  and  locked  in  their  cells. 

Madame  Steignitz  was  at  once  lifted  into  her  chair,  and, 
with  a  couple  of  police-officers  and  the  surgeon,  the  proces 
sion  started  for  her  house.  Luther,  with  the  Captain,  ran 
ahead  to  prepare  the  way,  and  in  hope  that  he  should  find 
Mrs.  Jolly,  the  nurse,  at  home  and  disengaged.  He  moun 
ted  the  stairs,  and  knocked  at  her  door  two  or  three  times  ; 
there  was  no  answer.  "  She  can't  be  in,"  said  Luther  from 
the  head  of  the  stairs.  "  How  unlucky." 

"Knock  again,  my  boy,"  responded  the  Captain.  "Bang 
hard.  She's  a  nurse,  you  know,  and  that  sort  always  sleep 
sound.  You've  no  idea  how  much  calling  and  knocking  a 
genuine  nurse  will  stand.  It's  their  business.  They  are 
brought  up  to  it." 

Thus  encouraged,  Luther  renewed  his  efforts,  and  at 
length  secured  a  response.  Yes,  Mrs.  Jolly  was  at  home, 
and  disengaged,  and  for  the  double  fees  that  Luther,  with 
reckless  prodigality,  promised  to  pay  out  of  his  own  pocket, 
was  ready  at  once  to  do  anything  for  anybody. 

The  noise  by  this  time  had  aroused  all  the  inmates  of 
the  house,  and  as  Madame  Steignitz  was  carried  up  to  her 
room,  her  tenants  crowded  the  landings  and  halls,  or  put 
their  heads  out  of  the  half-opened  doors,  as  if  to  welcome 


572 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


her  return.  Not  a  very  joyful  welcome,  as  may  be  supposed, 
although  there  were  none  there  who  bore  the  old  woman  any 
personal  ill-will ; — a  sorrowful  welcome  in  fact,  if  we  may 
judge  from  some  of  the  expressions. 

"  Lord  preserve  us,  Mrs.  Flanigan,  but  it's  she  herself  has 
come  back  to  us.  Ah,  but  the  Lord  is  hard  on  us  pooi 
people." 

"  Whist,  woman,  didn't  I  tell  you  so  ? " 

"  Ye  did,  but  I  didn't  believe  it.  Her  corse  to  the  sod, 
and  her  sowl  to  God,  was  what  I  made  sure  of,  and  now  here 
she  comes,  and  me  with  a  month's  back  rint  on  my  mind." 

"  Ah,  hush ;  don't  'mind  her  of  it.  Ain't  we  all  biling 
and  bubbling  in  the  same  pot  ? " 

"Remind  her?  Niver  you  fear,  if  I  don't  the  devil  will. 
Look  at  the  eyes  of  her.  They  glimmer  and  shine  like  two 
holes  in  a  blower." 

"  Oh,  you  may  say  that,  or  like  the  peeps  in  a  brick-kiln. 
And  don't  they  say,  I  know  every  one  of  yees  owes  me  a 
month's  rint,  and  I'll  take  it  for  breakfast  to-morrow  morning? 
Och !  that  I  should  come  to  be  so  defrauded.  By  my  sowl  it 
is  enough  to  make  one  sick  and  tired  of  life.  I  say,  Donegan, 
what  are  ye  staring  at  ?  Did  ye  niver  see  the  Madame 
before  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  have,  thank  God  for  His  mercies  ;  but — " 

"And  that  was  enough  for  ye,  eh?  Ye  didn't  want  to 
see  her  again  ?  Well,  you  may  say  that,  for  indeed  there  is 
nothing  enticing  about  her.  Your  wife  knows  you're  o'er  fond 
of  gallivanting  wid  de  young  ones,  but  she'll  trust  yees  to 
morrow  morning  wid  the  ould  one,  whin  ye  go  to  her  wid  the 
rint  in  your  hand.  Go  to  bed,  Donegan,  and  thank  the  divil 
for  sending  her  back  to  comfort  us  once  more." 

Some  time  after  Madame  Steignitz  had  been  borne  into 
her  room,  and  left  in  charge  of  Mrs.  Jolly,  the  conversation 
was  continued  by  little  groups  in  the  halls.  But  gradually, 
comments  and  conjectures  were  exhausted,  and  the  tenants 
went  back  to  bed  again,  but  not  to  sleep,  or,  if  they  did, 
most  assuredly  to  dream  of  one  of  the  heaviest  and  common 
est  afflictions  of  poor  humanity — rent  in  arrears. 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

Oil-wells — The   Big   Thing   Petroleum  Company — Mr.  Ledgeral's  visit 
to  the  Oil  Regions — Whoppers  and  Luther  visit  West  Point. 

THE  chief,  and  in  fact  the  only  well  of  the  Big  Thing 
Petroleum  Company  had  suddenly  stopped  flowing. 
One  of  the  greatest  geological  curiosities  of  the  Oil  Region  had 
ceased  to  be,  and  with  it  had  gone  Mr.  Ledgeral's  last  hope. 
Two  hundred  thousand  dollars  he  had  put  in  a  barren  piece 
of  ground,  and  dry  well  after  dry  well  had  repaid  his  liberal 
ity,  and  the  more  he  bored,  the  less  chance  he  had  of  shoving 
the  Big  Thing  off,  at  a  profit  of  five  hundred  per  cent, 
upon  a  nice  set  of  stockholders.  To  be  sure,  there  was  a 
pretty  good  well  on  the  adjoining  land.  He  might  have 
bought  that  out,  and  laid  a  pipe  from  it  to  one  of  his  dry 
wells,  and  then,  letting  her  "  head  up"  at  night,  have  man 
aged  to  pump  out  by  day  about  forty  barrels,  and  so  have 
pumped  in  some  greedy  speculators,  and  thus  at  least  have 
got  his  money  back.  But  Mr.  Ledgeral  was  no  villain  ;  if 
he  had  been,  he  never  would  have  appeared  in  this  book. 
He  was  a  strictly  honorable  man,  unfortunate  in  having  been 
suddenly  soused  into  a  whirlpool  of  irresistible  temptation, 
but  not  a  man  who  would  go  deliberately  to  the  current  of 
rascality,  and  strip  himself  for  a  swim.  He  could  not  have 
done  such  a  thing,  and,  besides,  it  was  too  late.  The  trick 
had  been  tried  more  than  once,  and  in  one  instance  with 
success  on  two  or  three  original  "  ilers" — experienced  fellows, 
who  had  bored  holes  themselves,  and  bought  and  sold  fees 
and  royalties,  and  rights  and  fractional  interests,  and  floated 
half-a-dozen  companies — fellows  all  over  "  ile,"  and  as  sleek 
and  slippery  as  a  Greek  gymnast  just  greased  for  the  arena. 


574  NEVER  AC  A IX. 

It  was  too  late  then  to  do  anything  of  that  kind,  even  had 
Mr.  Ledgeral  been  so  disposed,  which  I  am  happy  to  say  he 
was  not.  Such  virtue  could  not  go  without  reward,  and  one 
morning,  the  very  next  after  Mrs.  Ledgeral  had  started  for 
West  Point,  he  received  a  telegram  announcing 

"  The  tubing  all  in.  Seed-bag  in  place.  Sucker  rods  just  going  down. 
Begin  pumping  in  an  hour." 

Not  much  hope  had  Mr.  Ledgeral.  He  had  received  the 
same  kind  of  announcement  so  often,  and  then  a  weary  week's 
pumping  and  no  oil,  or  just  enough  to  grease  the  engine. 

At  noon  he  received  another  telegram  : 

"  Plenty  of  salt  water — a  little  oil,  but  increasing  ;  shall  get  her  up  to 
five  barrels  at  least." 

Five  barrels  !  And  Mr.  Ledgeral  threw  the  telegram  into 
the  waste-basket,  and,  leaning  his  elbows  on  the  table,  rested 
his  head  in  his  hands,  and  thought — and  thought — oh  such 
ugly  and  disagreeable  thoughts  ;  and  what  made  the  matter 
so  bad  and  imparted  an  element  of  peculiar  bitterness  was  the 
clearness  with  which  he  could  see  that  if  he  only  had  time  he 
would  come  out  all  right ;  and  yet  to  ask  for  time,  to  barely 
hint  at  the  necessity  for  that  precious  commodity,  would  be  to 
overwhelm  himself  with  ruin  and  disgrace.  And  then  he 
thought  of  Helen,  and  how  uncertain  the  scheme  to  which  she 
was  to  be  sacrificed,  and  that,  even  if  successful,  his  character 
as  a  godly,  church-going,  honest,  honorable  man  and  merchant 
was  at  the  mercy  of  a  comparative  stranger. 

And  thus  he  thought,  and  thought.  He  thought  all  the 
thoughts  over  and  over  again  which  for  weeks  he  had  been 
thinking  over  and  over.  In  fact  the  one  train  of  thought 
streamed  through  his  mind  with  desperate  peu/nacity,  until  he 
felt  as  if  he  should  go  crazy. 

But  he  did  not  go  crazy.  He  got  up  and  helped  himself 
to  a  large  glass  of  Bourbon,  which  diverted  his  mind,  and  his 
thoughts  rambled  a  little.  He  thought,  among  other  things, 
of  all  that  had  been  said,  pro  and  con,  about  suicide  ;  and  how 
absurd  it  is,  even  if  a  man  has  a  right  to  take  his  own  life,  to 
do  so  when  he  can  not  know  but,  by  waiting  a  little,  his  pains 
and  troubles  may  be  relieved. 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


575 


And  then  as  to  the  mode  of  suicide.  That  was  a  capital 
plan  of  Dr.  Signal,  who,  it  is  supposed,  stood  at  his  open 
window  with  a  bottle  of  prussic  acid,  and  with  one  move 
ment  emptied  its  contents  into  his  mouth,  and  jerked  the 
bottle  into  the  street.  When  his  body  was  found  some  time 
had  elapsed — there  was  nothing  but  the  faintest  possible 
odor  of  bitter  almonds,  and  a  few  fragments  of  a  glass  vial 
in  the  street — nothing  for  the  coroner  to  go  upon,  and  nobody 
but  a  few  medical  friends  suspected  that  he  had  committed 
suicide.  And  Mr.  Ledgeral  thought  of  Uncle  Shippen,  who 
always  had  a  plan  for  everything,  from  burglary  to  paying 
the  national  debt ;  from  flying  in  the  air  to  reducing  England 
to  an  uninhabitable  island  by  taking  away  from  her  shores 
the  Gulf  Stream.  The  only  difficulty  in  relation  to  this  feat 
might  be  the  impossibility  of  deciding  whether  it  would  be 
best  to  cut  a  channel  across  the  Isthmus  of  Panama  and  let 
the  current  go  through  that  way,  or  whether  it  would  be  best 
to  build  a  dyke  between  Florida  and  Cuba,  and  stop  it 
altogether. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,  sir,"  said  Uncle  Shippen;  "I  could 
commit  suicide,  and  I'd  defy  all  the  doctors  in  creation  to 
find  it  out.  There  are  fifty  different  ways.  I'd  do  it  with 
chloroform.  You  see,  I'd  take  a  handkerchief,  and  tie  a 
string  to  it,  and  lead  the  string  through  a  little  pulley  on  the 
mantel-piece,  and  so  on  to  the  clock-weight,  so  that  when  the 
weight  ran  down  it  would  pull  the  handkerchief  into  the  fire 
and  burn  it  up.  Well,  I  would  saturate  the  handkerchief 
with  chloroform,  lie  down,  apply  it  to  my  nose,  and  half  an 
hour  after  the  fire  would  remove  all  evidence,  and  the  verdict 
couldn't  be  anything  but  'Died  by  the  visitation  of  God.'" 

"Oh,  no,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers.  "They'd  find 
scraps  of  burnt  handkerchief  and  remnants  of  string,  and 
they  would  string  all  together.  They  would  see  through  it  at 
once,  and  bring  you  infelo  de  se,  and  besides,  you  might  want 
to  kill  yourself  in  summer,  when  there  are  no  fires.  Most 
suicides  do,  they  say." 

"  Well,  then,  I'd  try  another  way.     I'd  catch  a  cat — one 


576  NEVER  AGAIN. 

of  those  wild  fellows  from  off  the  back  fences,  then  I'd  tie  a 
long  string  to  her,  and  at  the  other  end  have  some  soft  paper 
soaked  in  chloroform.  Well,  I'd  open  the  window,  lie  dow  ,, 
hold  on  to  the  cat  with  one  hand,  and  apply  the  chloroform 
with  the  other,  and  when  my  grasp  relaxed  in  death,  away 
would  bound  the  cat  and  take  with  her  all  evidence  as  to  the 
manner  of  the  deed.  What  could  they  say  to  that?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  what  the  jury  might  say,  but  be  sure 
I'd  have  your  obituary  in  the  Universe,  under  the  head  of 
awful  ^z/astrophe." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  had  laughed  at  the  time  of  this  conversa 
tion,  and  he  smiled  a  little  now  as  he  thought  of  it.  But  the 
smile  did  not  last  long ;  still  the  train  of  cognate  ideas  did 
not  go  quite  so  easily. 

It  is  not  a  wholesome  state  of  mind  when  a  man  is  con 
tinually  turning  over  in  his  brain  thoughts  of  suicide,  although 
he  may  perhaps  fully  admit  the  wickedness,  the  awful  and 
supreme  absurdity  of  the  act,  and  although  he  continually 
says  to  himself  that  by  no  possibility  could  he  be  guilty  of 
such  sin  and  folly. 

Relief  from  such  dangerous  thoughts,  however,  came  at 
last,  when  later  in  the  day  Mr.  Ledgeral  received  another 
telegram : 

"  Pumped  five  hours.  Oil  all  the  time  increasing.  Four  o'clock, 
started  to  flow.  Five  hundred  barrels,  and  gaining  every  mimite.  Will 
reach  a  thousand.  All  the  tanks  full,  and  oil  running  to  waste." 

Here  was  a  change.  One  single  bound  from  the  depths 
of  despair  to  the  heights  of  hope  and  joy  !  It  may  be  imag 
ined  with  what  exultation  Mr.  Ledgeral  packed  his  carpet 
bag.  He  was  an  honest  man  after  all.  He  always  thought 
so.  How  could  he,  a  proud  New  York  merchant,  one  of  the 
stateliest  respectabilities  of  the  city,  ever  have  allowed  him 
self  to  fall  into  the  dumps  as  he  had  ?  He  knew  enough  of 
the  exaggerations  of  the  oil  business  not  to  rely  on  the  esti 
mate  of  a  thousand  barrels.  But  take  it  at  one-half  that  quan 
tity,  and  let  it  run  one  year — and  it  ought  to  last  two — he  was 
saved  ! 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


577 


In  half  an  hour  he  was  in  the  Erie  train  and  on  his  way 
to  Oil  City.  It  was  the  lightning  express,  and  on  it  rushed 
through  the  gloom  of  night,  past  town  and  hamlet,  through 
tunnels  and  forests,  across  rivers  and  ravines,  and  ever — 
unfortunately  for  the  poor  stockholders — up  hill  and  down 
dale  j  on  it  rushed,  but  hardly  with  the  rapidity  that  Mr.  Leclg- 
eral  would  have  liked.  If  the  wings  of  hope  so  often  talked 
of  were  only  real  bona  fide  flappable  entities,  he  would  have 
stretched  out,  and  left  the  train  far  behind.  His  spirit 
craned  itself  out  over  the  road,  beyond  the  locomotive,  and  at 
least  ten  seconds  to  the  mile  ahead  of  the  time-table  ;  his  pec 
toral  and  abdominal  muscles  were  drawn  into  that  painful 
state  of  constriction  which  accompanies  and  luckily  controls 
the  yearning  of  the  viscera  for  more  motion,  and  which  is  not 
inaptly  expressed  by  the  phrase  "  feeling  as  if  one  could  fly." 
Faster,  faster,  then  !  Never  mind  the  broken  rails,  the  mis 
placed  switches,  the  rotten  ties  and  bridges,  or  the  wandering 
cattle  !  There  is  something  ahead  worth  any  risk  to  see,  even 
as  a  mere  matter  of  curiosity — an  oil-well  spouting  one  thou 
sand  barrels  a  day  ! 

Talk  of  the  geysers  of  Iceland,  the  mud  volcanoes  of  Mex 
ico,  the  bubbling  clay-cones  of  Modena,  or  the  jets  of  flame 
ever  springing  from  the  field  of  Pietramala  ;  they  are  all  as 
nothing  compared  to  that  greatest  geological  mystery — a  flow 
ing  oil-well. 

Fancy  a  jet  of  oil  springing  suddenly,  from  a  hole  bored 
six  hundred  feet  into  the  solid  rock,  and  mounting  fifty  or  sixty, 
or,  as  in  the  case  of  the  great  Phillips  well,  one  hundred  feet 
into  the  air.  Again,  and  again,  men  rush  at  it  with  desperate 
determination  to  tube  it,  or  plug  it,  until  means  can  be  applied 
to  direct  and  control  its  flow.  And  again,  and  again,  covered 
with  oil,  blinded  by  the  spray  of  petroleum,  and  choked  with 
the  gas,  they  yield  to  the  force  of  the  jet,  and  the  intense  cold 
of  the  fluid,  and  are  compelled  to  retreat.  Hours,  perhaps 
days,  elapse  before  they  succeed,  and  in  the  meantime  all  sur 
rounding  nature  is  deluged  with  oil.  It  lies  ankle  deep  over 
acres  of  ground ;  it  runs  in  streams  into  Oil  Creek,  and  on  to 
37 


578  NEVER  AGAIN. 

the  Alleghany,  and  spreads  its  iridescent  pellicle  clear  to  the 
Ohio.  Everything  is  oil.  The  trees  drip  oil.  It  dribbles 
from  derrick  and  engine-house.  Clothing  is  soaked  in  oil. 
The  air  for  miles  is  filled  with  its  gas.  You  taste  it ;  you  smell 
it ;  you  see  it.  You  live  in  as  dense  an  atmosphere  of  pure  gas 
as  you  would  were  you  a  member  of  Congress.  You  wade  in 
oil  halfway  to  your  knees.  You  talk  oil,  tbink  oil,  dream  oil. 
All  creation  seems  turning  into  oil,  and  you  wonder  how  long 
the  continent  of  America  will  last,  and  how  soon  it  will  come 
the  turn  of  Europe,  and  whether  Africa  will  not  run  all  into 
the  black  lubricating  kind. 

And  still  she  spouts — spouts  as  persistently  as  a  woman's 
rights  lecturer.  Good  Heavens  !  what  if  Nature  has  dosed  the 
world  for  some  of  its  colicky  pains  with  oil,  and  the  oil  won't 
stay  down ;  may  we  not  anticipate  a  terrible  writhing  and 
twisting,  when  it  has  all  been  thrown  up?  Pardon  me,  my 
dear  madam,  if  this  idea  has  a  smack  of  the  shop.  But  an  old 
M.  D.,  you  know,  may  take  liberties ;  and  besides,  you  have 
children — darling  little  angels — and  you  know  how  it  is  your 
self.  And,  moreover — and  that  is  the  best  excuse — it  was  the 
precise  idea  that  came  into  Mr.  Ledgeral's  head  as  he  stood 
and  listened  to  the  workings  of  his  new  well. 

It  was  not  a  steadily  flowing  well.  It  was  intermittent,  like 
the  famous  Fox  well  at  Petroleum  Centre  on  Oil  Creek.  It 
flowed  by  spurts  at  regular  intervals,  and  at  the  time  Mr. 
Ledgeral  had  reached  the  ground  was  yielding  about  a  hun 
dred  and  forty  barrels  a  day.  A  pretty  deep  and  sudden  drop 
in  forty-eight  hours  from  a  thousand  barrels !  But  Mr.  Ledg 
eral  had  to  make  some  allowance  for  the  excited  fancy  that 
at  the  first  spurt  measured  the  flow,  especially  as  he  found  upon 
close  examination  no  evidence  in  his  tanks  of  any  such  pro 
duction. 

Still,  a  flowing  well  of  one  hundred  and  forty  barrels,  with 
oil  even  at  four  dollars  a  barrel,  is  not  to  be  despised.  And 
Mr.  Ledgeral  didn't  despise  it.  He  respected  it — he  admired 
it — he  rejoiced  in  it  with  a  deep  and  grateful  joy.  He 
watched  it  by  day  with  a  sentiment  of  profound  thankfulness. 
He  listened  to  it  at  night  in  a  state  of  solemn  delight. 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


579 


Things  have  changed  very  much  for  the  better  in  the  oil 
regions,  although  flowing  wells  are  now  pretty  much  among 
the  things  that  were.  The  world  has  moved  there  as  well  as 
here.  And  why  should  it  not,  since  nowhere  have  its  ways 
been  more  thoroughly  lubricated. 

Railroads  now  have  taken  the  place  of  the  rows  of  gullies 
and  holes,  formerly  called  roads,  where  wheel  carriages  were 
matters  of  sheer  desperation  ;  where  even  a  cavalier  took  his 
life  in  his  hand  every  time  he  threw  his  leg  over  the  saddle  ; 
or  where  a  pedestrian  could  pursue  his  oleaginous  way  only 
at  the  imminent  risk,  every  ten  yards,  of  slumping  quite 
through  into  the  regions  of  eternal  slush. 

It  is  understood  now,  that  a  gentleman  can  walk  the 
streets  of  Franklin,  or  Oil  City,  or  Titusville,  even  in  wet 
weather  without  getting  much  over  his  knees  in  mud  ;  and 
as  for  hotel  accommodation,  it  is  quite  superb.  Any  one 
can  now  get  a  good,  "  square"  meal — that  is,  if  he  is  used  to 
the  usual  horrors  of  American  cooking — at  many  places 
where  formerly  he  would  have  had  to  sit  down  to  a  table 
groaning — or  perhaps  a  better  word  would  be  grunting — 
with  rancid  butter,  rusty  mackerel,  salt  junk,  and  sodden 
bread,  with  perhaps  nothing  but  a  boiled  watery  potato 
between  him  and  absolute  starvation.  And  as  for  lodging, 
one  has  no  longer  to  pass  the  night  in  a  feverish  doze  over  a 
red-hot  stove  in  the  bar-room,  or  sleep  three  in  a  bed,  without 
sheets,  and  every  man  with  his  boots  on. 

There  are  various  geological  theories  as  to  the  origin  of 
petroleum.  Mr.  Ledgeral  had  studied  them  all,  and  had 
decided  in  his  own  mind  in  favor  of  the  slow  distillation  of  the 
marine,  animal,  and  vegetable  matter  that  loaded  the  sea- 
beaches  of  the  ancient  world,  but  as  he  stood  by  his  well  in 
the  silence  of  the  night,  and  listened  to  the  panting  and 
wheezing  sound  preceding  each  ejection,  and  then  to  the 
fierce,  spiteful  spitting  of  oil  in  three  or  four  rapid  jets,  and 
then  to  the  gurgling  grunts  and  sighs  that  followed  the  exer 
tion,  the  whole  process  lasting  perhaps  a  minute,  with  an  inter 
val  of  only  fifteen  or  twenty  seconds,  he  could  hardly  keep 


580  NEVER  AGAIN. 

himself  from  the  belief  that  the  thing  was  alive — that  some 
great  monster  was  at  the  bottom  of  it — that  the  drill  had 
tapped  the  blubber  of  some  antediluvian  kraken. 

And  now,  as  has  been  said  at  the  beginning  of  this 
chapter,  the  monster  was  dead.  He  had  given  the  last  sign 
of  animation  ;  not  another  sigh  or  groan  ;  not  another  drop 
of  oil. 

The  well  had  lasted  only  three  weeks,  when  it  stopped 
almost  as  suddenly  as  it  had  begun.  Everything  to  resusci 
tate  it  was  tried, — the  tubing  was  drawn  ;  the  drill  inserted ; 
the  bore  retubed, — all  to  no  use.  The  seed-bag — a  leather 
pouch  surrounding  the  tube,  and  filled  with  flax-seed,  which, 
swelling  with  the  water  and  thus  stopping  up  two  or  three  feet 
in  length  of  the  space  between  the  tube  and  the  sides  of  the 
well,  cuts  off  the  superincumbent  water  from  the  well  below 
— had  been  changed  half-a-dozen  times.  Up  and  down — 
now  above  the  first  sandstone — now  below  it — and  now 
almost  to  the  bottom  ;  the  pump  had  been  worked  for  a  week 
— nothing  but  salt  water,  hardly  a  barrel  of  oil.  As  a  last 
resort  a  torpedo  of  nitro-glycerine  was  lowered  to  the  bot 
tom,  and  exploded  by  the  electric  spark.  No  result.  The 
monster  was  dead.  And  what  killed  him?  There  was  no 
regular  jury  impanelled,  but  everybody  from  Oil  City  to 
Titusville  sat  upon  the  question,  and  some  thought  he  died 
for  want  of  breath,  and  some  thought  that  he  had  choked 
himself  with  a  big  lump  of  paraffine  ,  but  the  majority  of  the 
more  experienced  decided  that  he  had  been  drowned,  and 
that  the  accident  came  about  from  boring  two  or  three  wells 
in  close  proximity.  And  what  made  the  matter  worse,  these 
wells,  which  had  been  pushed  down  with  greedy  energy,  upon 
being  tubed  and  tested,  yielded  little  or  nothing. 

A  dark  cloud  at  once  settled  down  upon  the  territory  of 
the  Big  Thing  Petroleum  Company,  and  a  still  darker  cloud 
settled  down  again  upon  Mr.  Ledgeral's  mind.  He  had,  as 
it  seemed,  been  lifted  to  the  heights  of  hope  only  to  make 
more  fearful  his  plunge  into  the  depths  of  despair. 

He  came  back  to  the  city  looking  worse  and  feeling  worse 


NEVER  AGAIN.  581 

than  before  he  started.  And  in  every  respect  the  situation 
was  worse.  He  owed  more  money.  He  could  clearly  fore 
see  the  time  when  his  debts  would  become  very  pressing,  and 
every  day  that  had  passed  had  only  brought  him  nearer  to  a 
time  for  settlement  with  the  Count.  He  was  again  a  dis 
honest,  and  soon  to  be  a  dishonored,  man,  hanging  over  the 
brink  of  ruin. 

Success  gilds  evil,  covering  up  its  deformities,  and  con 
cealing  its  harms.  It  has  always  done  so  in  the  public  mind, 
perhaps  always  will  do  so.  Why  ask  or  expect  a  man,  then, 
to  be  much  better  than  the  age,  and  why  demand  a  much 
clearer  sight,  a  sharper,  swifter  judgment  from  the  conscience 
of  the  individual  than  from  the  common  moral  sense  in 
which,  and  by  which,  his  whole  character  has  been  moulded  ? 

Piactically  and  actually,  then,  success  justifies  and  sanc 
tifies  much  that  theoretically  we  know  to  be  evil,  and  on  the 
other  hand  failure  exhibits  it  in  all  its  deformity.  Oh  yes, 
when  the  great  man  is  "  down,"  "  burst  up,"  or  has  been 
stripped  of  his  money  or  his  power,  we  can  all  see  what  a 
wicked  man  he  was,  and  not  only  wicked,  but  foolish.  And 
just  so  with  a  man's  own  estimate  of  his  own  deeds  and 
thoughts.  People  talk,  especially  the  good  people  of  the 
"  intuitive"  school,  as  if  conscience  in  each  man  was  of  a 
fixed  force — the  same  always  in  quantity,  and  they  really 
seem  to  think  that  it  requires  a  violent  effort  of  the  will  to 
turn  away  from  its  warnings.  Whereas,  in  the  full  blaze  of 
successful  villainy,  a  man  loses  for  the  time  all  moral  sense,  and 
his  conscience  selects  the  darkest  and  most  secluded  cham 
ber  of  his  brain,  and  falls  into  such  a  sound  sleep  that  it  can 
only  be  awakened  by  the  loud  knocking  of  evil  conse 
quences.  He  is  not  capable  of  judging  of  the  moral  qualities 
of  his  actions,  so  that  we  might  in  many  cases  adopt  the 
paradox  "the  bigger  the  rascal  the  more  honest  the  man." 

But  take  away  the  glow  and  glitter  of  success.  Ah ! 
then  conscience  begins  to  wake  and  work,  and,  in  working, 
grows  more  strong  and  more  clear.  The  egg  of  remorse 
is  hatched  out  under  the  rotting  leaves  of  unfruitful  sin. 


582  NEVER  AGAIN. 

The  little  animal  peeps  into  the  light  of  consciousness,  and 
rapidly  grows  into  a  snake  of  a  dozen  rattles.  Serpents 
are  viviparous !  Thank  you,  kind  sir,  but  we'll  let  the  figure 
stand ;  any  reptilian  form  will  do — "basilisk,  or  cockatrice, 
or  mailed  saurian."  The  owner  of  the  animal  feels  his 
fangs,  and  if  questioned  upon  the  subject  will  be  ready  to 
admit  that  a  man  never  feels  so  sorry  for  any  wicked  thing 
that  he  has  done  as  when  he  has  awakened  fully  to  the 
conviction  that  he  has  done  it  for  nothing — that  he  has 
served  the  devil  without  pay. 

And  that  was  precisely  Mr.  Ledgeral's  case.  Poor  man ! 
Let  us  pity  him,  and  firmly  resolve  that  we  never  will  give 
Satan  tick  for  a  penny's  worth  of  sin.  Ready  money,  and 
cash  down,  Old  Boy,  if  you  want  any  of  your  rascally  jobs 
done  by  us. 

"  So  you  think  it  was  the  new  well  that  killed  the  old 
one,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers.  "  Well,  well,  that  illustrates 
the  old  saying,  'Better  let  well  alone.'" 

It  is  doubtful  whether  it  was  not  as  much  a  desire  to 
escape  from  Mr.  Whoppers,  as  a  determination  to  see  for 
himself  how  matters  were  standing  between  Helen  and  the 
Count,  that  induced  Mr.  Ledgeral  to  decide  suddenly  on  a 
visit  to  West  Point. 

There  had  been  numerous  notices  in  the  daily  papers  of 
the  affair  in  Wooster  Street,  but  all  of  them  rather  meagre. 
Mr.  Whoppers  had  exerted  his  tact  and  diplomatic  skill,  and 
his  influence  with  the  police-officers  and  reporters  to  this 
end.  He  alone  had  all  the  details  from  the  beginning,  and  he 
was  not  going  to  lose  the  opportunity,  for  a  grand  sensational 
in  the  Universe. 

He  called  Luther  into  his  office  two  or  three  days  after 
the  fight,  to  show  him  the  proof  of  his  article.  "  Here  we 
all  are,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Got  us  all — three  columns  :  Bril 
liant  Exploits  of  Amateur  Detectives — Professionals  Nowhere 
— Inefficiency  of  the  Police — Rottenness  and  Corruption  of 
the  system — Gallant  Rescue,  from  the  hands  of  a  desperate 
Band  of  Kidnappers  and  Murderers,  of  the  great  French 
Millioneuse." 


NEVER  AGAIN.  583 

"  Millioneuse  !     Where  did  you  get  that  word  ? " 

"  Oh,  that's  newspaper  French.  You  don't  suppose  that 
a  fellow  who  has  all  his  life  been  taking  liberty  with  his  native 
tongue,  hasn't  a  right  to  do  what  he  pleases  with  a  foreign 
language  ?  If  the  French  haven't  the  word,  it's  because  they 
haven't  the  thing,  that's  all.  Well,  here  we  are.  I've  immor 
talized  the  whole  of  us — Boggs  in  particular.  He  is  the 
hero.  His  blood  flowed,  you  know,  most  freely." 

"I  see  you  have  done  it  in  your  grand  style,"  said 
Luther  looking  over  the  proof.  "  I'm  afraid  you  will  make 
us  all  look  ridiculous." 

"  Must  have  some  fine  writing  nowadays,"  replied  Mr. 
Whoppers,  shaking  his  head.  "The  taste  of  the  general 
public  demands  the  highfalutin.  Look  here  now  ;  suppose  I 
should  say,  Mr.  Boggs  got  his  arm  free,  and  struck  his  op 
ponent  several  severe  blows  on  the  face  and  head.  That 
would  be  plain  English,  and  tell  the  story,  but  do  you  sup 
pose  it  would  give  a  man  his  money's  worth  ?  Look  now 
how  I  have  put  it.  '  Mr.  Boggs  succeeded  in  disembarrassing 
his  dexter  arm,  and  availing  himself,  with  lightning-like 
rapidity,  of  the  opportunity,  proceeded  to  deliver,  with  the 
velocity  and  percussive  violence  of  a  steam  hammer,  a  series 
of  blows  immediately  upon  and  in  a  direct  normal  to  the 
nasal  and  supraorbital  regions  of  his  adversary's  sinciput.' 
Don't  you  see  the  difference  ?  Here's  something  for  your 
money, — a  half-dozen  first-class  words,  and  one  at  least  that 
would  drive  any  bar-room  loafer  or  country-store  lounger 
to  his  dictionary,  if  he  had  one.  Read  it  through,  you  will 
find  that  it  is  all  in  the  same  liberal  style.  For  instance, 
did  you  at  once  suspect  those  rascals  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it ;  see, 
here  it  is ;  the  conclusion  was  irresistible,  and  the  conviction 
flashed  itself  instantaneously  through  your  mind.  Did  you 
rush  up  to  the  old  woman  in  the  corner  ?  No,  you  advanced 
with  rapidity  to  the  recumbent  form  occupying  one  angle  of 
the  room,  and  so  on.  You  don't  like  it !  Well,  I  can  tell 
you  that  you  have  no  choice  between  this  kind  of  thing  and 
downright  slang." 


584  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"  Well,  I  rather  think,"  said  Luther,  "  that  I  prefer  the 
slang." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Mr.  Whoppers,  "but  it  wouldn't  do  in  this 
case  ;  besides,  I  try  to  keep  the  Universe  clear  from  slang. 
You  know  the  Universe  goes  in  for  the  genteel,  as  well  as  for 
the  moral  and  religious.  Why,  I'd  no  more  admit  a  slangy 
article,  however  vigorous,  than  I  would  admit  a  page  of  Her 
bert  Spencer,  a  lecture  by  John  Fiske,  or  any  exposition  of  the 
real  views  and  discoveries  of  Tyndal  and  Huxley  and  Agassiz 
and  Darwin,  or  any  other  of  the  host  of  wicked  scientific  men 
who  are  upsetting  the  good  old  geology  and  ethnology  of  Gen 
esis.  However,  that  is  neither  here  nor  there.  At  present  I 
wanted  to  say  something  to  you.  And  first,  how  is  your  old 
friend  ? " 

"  Oh,  she's  gaining." 

"  Gaining,  of  course  she  is.  She'll  gain  to  the  last  moment 
of  her  life.  And  all  the  better  for  you,  my  boy — that  is,  if  she 
don't  live  too  long.  But  I  suppose,  now  she  is  getting  better, 
you  will  be  thinking  about  going  back  to  your  old  place  in 
Burling  Slip.  It  is  still  open  for  you." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Gainsby  informed  me  yesterday  that  they  were 
wanting  me  back.  He  had  the  politeness  to  say  that  he  did 
not  see  how  they  could  get  along  without  me." 

"Well,  then,  my  advice  is,  don't  be  in  a  hurry.  A  few 
days  more  or  less  don't  make  any  difference.  You  have  been 
hard  worked  lately;  so  have  I.  Suppose  we  take  two  or 
three  days,  and  run  up  to  West  Point? " 

"  Why  the  Ledgerals  are  there." 

"  Well,  suppose  they  are  ;  they  can't  hurt  us.  At  any 
rate,  we  can  keep  clear  of  them." 

Luther  at  first  resolutely  refused,  and  for  some  time  he 
tried  to  fortify  his  determination  with  reasons  drawn  from  the 
condition  of  Madame  Steignitz,  and  from  the  necessity  of  re 
turning  at  once  to  his  work.  But  there  was  a  secret  traitor  in 
the  camp,  quietly  undermining  the  walls  of  resolution — a  lurk 
ing  devil  of  a  desire  to  see  her — to  be  near  her — to  live  in  the 
same  house  with  her — perchance  to  speak  to  her,  and  to  tell 


NEVER  AGAIN.  585 

her  that  if  she  did  marry  the  Count  he  hoped  she  would  do 
better,  and  be  happier,  than  most  American  girls  who  have 
married  foreign  titles — yes,  he  would  go. 

"  And  I'll  propose  the  thing  to  Boggs.  His  face  is  almost 
well,  and  the  Stichens  have  gone  off  to  Saratoga,1 

"  Gone !  I  didn't  know  that,"  exclaimed  Luther.  "  I 
meant  to  have  called  there  this  evening." 

"  Yes,  Dr.  Petcalf  told  Stichen  that  he  wouldn't  guarantee 
his  life  a  day  if  he  did  not  clear  right  out.  I'll  tell  you  what 
my  opinion  is.  I  think  the  little  man  is  in  a  bad  way.  He 
has  been  making  too  much  money  lately,  and  it  has  gone  to 
his  liver.  I'm  afraid  he'll  step  out  suddenly.  He's  had  one 
touch,  you  know." 

"  Let  us  hope,  for  her  sake,  that  he  may  never  have 
another." 

"  Amen  !  Although  I  don't  know  that  it  would  be  such  a 
misfortune  for  her.  She'd  make  a  widow, — young,  handsome, 
clever,  and  rich.  I  don't  see  how  you  could  crowd  more  of 
human  bliss  into  a  small  package,  and  then  you  know  the  old 
saying,  '  There's  as  good  fish  in  the  sea,'  etc.,  applies  as  well 
to  a  dead  husband  as  to  a  lost  lover." 

"  Meaning  yourself,"  exclaimed  Luther,  somewhat  indig 
nantly. 

"  Well,  I  don't  say  no.  I  might  be  disposed,  in  such  a 
case,  to  angle  a  little  in  that  water,  if  it  weren't  for  one  thing. 
I'm  afraid  Boggs  could,  and  would,  outcast  me." 

Luther  turned  on  his  heel.  "  Well  then,  it's  understood, 
to-morrow,  at  half-past  three,  we  all  meet  on  board  the  Mary 
Powell." 


CHAPTER   XXXH. 

Fashionable  Hotels — Luther  and  Helen  at  West  Point — Uncle  Shippen 
on  Dancing — His  opinion  of  the  German. 

THERE  are,  as  is  well  known,  perhaps  half-a-dozen  sum 
mer  resorts  of  the  highest  fashion, — places  where  the 
hotel  registers  have  the  power  of  the  libra  d*oro, — the  mere 
entering  of  your  name  is  a  distinction  ; — places  where  a  dinner 
is  a  step  upward,  your  bed-room  key  the  insignia  of  rank,  and 
your  week's  bill  quite  a  patent  of  nobility. 

There  are,  besides,  innumerable  watering-places,  great  and 
small,  where  fashionable  people  can  and  do  go  without  losing 
caste, — some  quiet,  respectable,  and  stupid  ;  some  noisy,  fast, 
and  amusing  or  disgusting,  according  to  taste; — but  there  is 
hardly  more  than  half-a-dozen,  if  so  many,  where  the  aura  of 
fashion  settles  down  upon  the  place  in  a  visible  cloud. 

Not  that  these  consecrated  places  are  confined  to  one  class. 
They  may  be  cliquish,  but  they  are  not  exclusive.  You  will 
meet  thousands  of  queer  people,  fast  people,  and  slow  people, 
vulgar  and  refined  people — ladies  who  get  all  their  dresses 
from  Paris,  and  ladies  who  never  heard  the  name  of  Worth 
or  Vasseur  or  L'Archeveque,  and  who  don't  even  know  Diclon 
or  Madame  Volorem — women  who  have  pushed  their  way, 
and  women  who  are  pushing  their  way  ;  but  notwithstanding 
this  jumble,  a  certain  odor  of  haut  ton  pervades  the  atmos 
phere,  an'  ^iheres  persistently  in  the  constitution  of  the 
place. 

'  And  yet  these  places  are  not  at  all  alike — not  alike  even 
in  the  character  of  the  fashionable  aureole  that  hangs  over  them. 
But  this  difference  is  one  to  be  felt  rather  than  described. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  587 

The  brush  of  a  painter  may  make  the  variations  in  the  glory 
of  sunset  apparent,  but  words  are  powerless  to  more  than  in 
dicate  their  existence.  We  might,  perhaps,  with  our  own  poor 
pen,  convey  a  tolerable  idea  of  the  geographical  and  topo 
graphical  position, — the  character  and  extent  of  the  accommo 
dations  at  Sharon,  Saratoga,  West  Point,  Newport,  and  New 
London — with  an  analysis  of  the  company,  and  a  summary  of 
the  amusements, — the  whole  winding  up  with  an  estimate  of  the 
comparative  amounts  of  health,  strength,  moral  improvement 
and  social  enjoyment  afforded  by  each  in  a  season;  but  that 
would  not  touch  the  point  we  are  trying  to  get  at.  We  should 
be  just  as  far  as  ever  from  conveying  a  sense  of  those  delicate 
varieties  in  the  parfum  de  societ'e  ;  those  softened  variations  in 
the  lustre  of  the  pure  purple  of  fashion,  characteristic  of  each 
place.  Boggs,  perhaps,  might  do  it ;  or,  still  better,  Peter 
Weddemall.  He  has  all  the  profound  knowledge  of  a  society- 
man,  and  wields  the  pen  of  a  poet. 

The  subject  is  difficult,  and  might,  perhaps,  have  better 
not  been  broached;  but  it  is  not  too  late  for  the  reader  to 
leave  it,  and  jump  on  board  the  Mary  Powell,  the  pride  of 
the  lower  Hudson,  as  she  throws  off  her  fasts  from  the  wharf, 
and  starts  on  her  afternoon  trip  up  the  river.  All  our  party 
are  on  board. 

Mr.  Boggs  has  a  scratch  or  two  on  his  cheek,  and  a  black 
mark  under  his  eye.  He  don't  care  about  showing  himself 
among  the  crowd  of  ladies  on  the  upper  deck.  Captain 
Combings  wants  to  smoke  ;  Mr.  Whoppers  wants  to  read  the 
newspaper,  and  Luther  wants  to  look  at  the  scenery  and  enjoy 
the  cool,  pure  breeze,  and  there  is  no  better  place  for  all  than 
below  forward  in  the  bow  of  the  boat.  What  with  pure  air, 
fine  scenery,  pleasant  conversation,  the  second  edition  of  an 
evening  journal,  and  a  mild  cigar,  a  fellow  must  be  very  ex 
acting  if  he  can't  manage  to  pass  pleasantly  the  two  hours 
and  a  half  between  the  city  and  West  Point. 

The  Powell  has  the  tide  with  her — it  is  one  of  her  quick 
trips,  and  she  is  going  along  at  the  rate  of  twenty-five  miles 
an  hour.  It  would  be  a  shame,  when  her  passengers  are 


5 88  NEVER  AGAIN. 

travelling  so  fast,  to  detain  the  reader  with  any  unnecessary 
details.  We  will,  therefore,  suppose  everybody  to  have  landed, 
and  the  coaches  and  carriages  to  have  delivered  their  loads 
under  the  inquisitive  eyes  of  the  well-dressed  crowd  assembled 
on  the  piazza,  avowedly  to  greet  friends,  but  as  much  or  more 
to  criticise  strangers. 

It  was  not  until  Luther  had  secured  his  room,  and  was 
quietly  seated  at  his  window  looking  out  on  to  the  slopes  of 
Sugar  Loaf,  that  he  fairly  put  the  question  to  himself — "  Why 
had  he  come  ?  what  a  weak  irresolute  fool !  "  and  the  old  simile 
of  the  moth  and  the  candle  is  too  common  not  to  have  oc 
curred  to  him.  "  Just  one  last  look  !  But  why  a  last  look,  if 
that  look  is  to  be  painful,  or,  worse,  full  of  peril  ?  Just  to 
say  good-bye  for  the  last  time.  But  why  good-bye  once  more, 
if  the  parting  is  to  be  immediate  and  formal  ?  Would  there 
be  any  sense  in  mending  a  broken  chain  only  to  sever  it  the 
next  instant  ?  Yes,  yes !  to  be  near  her  for  one  instant,  to 
speak  to  her  once  more,  perhaps  to  touch  her  hand  !  It  is 
worth  any  pain,  any  peril,  any  sacrifice.  What !  just  for  a  few 
moments  ?  and  then — and  then — nothing  but  blank  misery, 
and  oh !  such  a  long  life  before  me.  God  help  me,  but  I  wish 
I  had  gone  with  the  old  Montaigne  to  the  bottom,  below  that 
bluff!  No,  no,  not  that,  for  then  I  never  should  have  seen 
her.  But  if  I  could  have  starved  to  death  that  night !  " 

And  suddenly  Luther,  giving  full  sway  to  the  passionate 
tide  of  feeling,  flung  his  head  upon  his  arms  resting  on  the 
window-sill,  and  fairly  groaned  as  his  compressed  eyelids 
squeezed  out  two  or  three  drops  of  boiling  fluid,  and  all  the 
world  vanished  from  his  view. 

"  O  God,  I  cannot,  will  not,  live  without  her,  I  will  die ! 
I  must  die." 

At  the  sound  of  his  own  passionate  exclamation,  he 
jumped  to  his  feet  and  stared  for  a  moment  wildly  around 
the  room. 

Can  it  be  that  such  a  nice  young  man  is  going  to  give 
way  to  an  access  of  suicidal  mania  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it ;  he 
does  something  much  more  sensible.  He  goes  to  the  wash- 


NEVER  AGAIN.  589 

stand,  and  laves  his  face,  head  and  all,  in  a  basin  of  cold 
water. 

You  should  have  seen  him  when  he  emerged,  and  was 
drying  his  dripping  locks — his  face  all  aglow,  his  eyes  spar 
kling,  and  his  brown  hair  standing  all  over  his  head  in  curls 
that  fairly  quivered  and  danced  with  freshened  vitality.  He 
kill  himself!  and  for  love?  Bah!  the  world  can't  do  without 
a  few  such.  Are  all  its  honors,  and  riches,  and  rewards  to 
be  forever  and  eternally  inherited — we  won't  say  enjoyed — 
by  the  gross,  sensual,  and  selfish,  or  by  sickly,  mean, 
miserable,  dirty  devils,  who  have  no  idea  but  to  heap  up 
wealth  without  using  it,  and  extort  consideration  without  pay 
ing  for  it ! — whose  sole  ambition  is  to  swindle  the  public, 
by  passing  off  the  false  counters  of  notoriety  for  the  pure 
gold  of  fame  ! 

No  ;  our  Luther  had  no  such  foolish  thoughts.  He  was 
in  love — desperately  in  love,  as  a  good  many  strong  men 
have  been  before  him.  But  he  was  no  silly  swain  to  sigh  his 
life  away  for  love.  The  world  might  never  be  so  bright 
again,  but  it  had  its  interests,  and  worthy  ones  too.  There 
iomes  a  time  to  all  men,  it  is  said,  when  the  glamour  of  life 
wears  away  and  we  wake  to  a  sense  of  the  dull,  poor  reality. 
Why  not  as  well  reach  that  point  suddenly  with  one  quick 
sharp  shock,  as  to  wait  the  slow  attrition  of  mean  cares  and 
disagreeable  duties — the  slow  and  deliberate  tapping  of 
time  ?  The  most  that  could  be  said  would  be  that  he  was 
old  early. 

No  !  come  what  might,  he  was  lord  of  himself  and  master 
of  his  convictions.  He  was  not  the  slave  of  passion,  and  he 
would  not  be  drawn  by  it  into  any  selfish  and  reckless  disre 
gard  of  right  and  duty. 

The  idea  of  trying  to  induce  his  beloved  to  run  off  with 
him  never  occurred  to  him ;  he  never  thought  of  such  a  thing. 

The  obstacles  to  his  love,  he  saw  and  admitted,  were  in 
superable.  He  was  dominated  by  the  social  conditions  under 
which  he  lived.  Why  shouldn't  he  be  ?  You  may  rail,  if  you 
please,  against  the  pricks,  but  it  is  very  foolish  to  kick  against 
them. 


590  NEVER  AGAIN. 

It  used  to  be  a  doctrine — taught  by  our  great  teachers  ot 
all  knowledge,  the  novelists — that  a  hero  who  wouldn't  jump 
out  of  a  two-story  window  into  the  gutter  with  his  beloved,  in 
defiance  of  a  prudent  parent,  must  necessarily  be  lacking  in 
all  the  better  elements  of  a  spirited  lover.  Nothing  can  be 
more  silly  or  more  erroneous.  There  may,  perhaps,  be  a  few 
cases  where  prudence  and  good  sense,  as  well  as  passion, 
counsel  the  furtive  ;  but,  in  general,  the  young  man  who  urges 
an  elopement,  or  who  will  persist  in  marrying  a  girl  against 
the  wishes  of  her  family  and  the  suggestions  of  prudence,  is  a 
selfish,  mean-spirited,  and  very  often,  in  every  way,  a  worth 
less  cur.  And  the  girl  !  What  of  the  girl  ?  Why,  she's  a 
weak,  silly  goose,  and,  perhaps,  deserves  to  be  punished,  as 
she  probably  will  be,  by  a  life  of  domestic  misery. 

A  fair  match,  then  !  why  not  let  them  marry  ? 

So  I  would,  were  it  not  that  they  are  sure  to  have  a  family  of 
ill-bred,  ignorant,  wayward  children  to  perpetuate  and  dissemi 
nate  all  of  their  parents'  mean  foibles  and  petty  vices  of  char 
acter  and  manners. 

This  was  the  way  Uncle  Shippen  talked,  and  we  can't 
think  that  the  comical  old  quiz  was  much  out  on  this  point ; 
at  any  rate  Luther  practically  coincided  with  him. 

If  it  had  been  a  mere  question  of  bread  and  butter,  it 
might  have  been  different.  Luther  had  no  want  of  confidence 
in  his  own  power  to  earn  what  the  world  would  call  a  good 
living.  And  he  felt,  moreover,  that  he  and  Helen  could  live 
together  very  well  on  bread  without  butter,  if  that  were  all. 
But  taking  a  girl  out  of  her  social  sphere — bringing  her  down 
from  her  fashionable  estate  to  the  dull  realities  of  simple  well- 
fed  respectability — it  was  impossible.  The  very  genius  of 
conventionality  forbids  it ;  the  united  voice  of  society  forbids  ; 
every  feeling  of  honor,  magnanimity,  and  generosity  forbids 
it ;  even  love  itself  forbids  it.  It  is  impossible.  As  well  un 
dertake  to  bring  down  the  planets  for  billiard-balls,  or  the 
stars  of  the  milky-way  to  light  up  the  opera-bouff. 

Mrs.  Ledgeral  never  exhibited  more  tact  than  she  did 
when  she  first  met  Luther  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  leading  to 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


59* 


the  grand  hall.  He  had  suddenly  become  famous — his  name 
was  in  the  newspapers — and  though  inwardly  disturbed  at  his 
unexpected  appearance,  it  would  never  do  to  convert  him  into 
a  persecuted  and  ill-treated  hero  by  any  supercilious  or 
haughty  manifestations  on  her  part.  A  neglected  hero,  or  a 
hero  with  a  grievance,  might  be  dangerous  ;  whereas,  as  things 
stood,  it  was  to  be  hoped  that  all  danger  had  neairy  or  quite 
passed  by. 

She  advanced  to  him,  presented  her  hand  with  a  certain 
warmth  of  manner,  and  made  numerous  inquiries  about  the 
adventure  that  she  had  seen  noticed  in  the  journals. 

Luther  was  pleased,  but  hardly  deceived.  It  is  easy  to 
see  through  a  friendly  manner  when  the  unfriendliness  that  it 
covers  is  mingled  with  fear.  The  man  who  is  about  to  strike 
may  conceal  his  design  with  sweet  smiles  and  honeyed 
phrases,  but  the  man  who  anticipates  a  blow  finds  it  much 
more  difficult  to  impose  upon  his  adversary  by  jaunty  confi 
dence  and  affected  ease.  Luther  felt  that  Mrs.  Ledgeral  de 
tested  him,  but  he  felt  grateful  to  her  for  having  helped  him 
so  nicely  through  the  embarrassment  of  a  first  meeting,  and 
he  in  turn  made,  in  a  free,  matter-of-course  style,  his  inquiries 
after  the  members  of  the  family. 

Mr.  Ledgeral  ?  Yes,  Mr.  Ledgeral  came  up  from  the  city 
two  days  ago.  Couldn't  say  how  long  he  would  stay  ;  was 
looking  very  bad,  and  she  really  had  great  fears  for  his  health. 
And  Helen  ?  She  was  not  looking  very  well  either  ;  was 
afraid  that  West  Point  had  not  agreed  very  well  with  her.  A 
trip  to  Europe — some  of  those  German  springs — would  be  the 
thing.  Hoped  that  Helen  would  be  able  to  go  out  this  fall. 
"I  go ?  Oh,  no  ;  I'm  afraid  not.  I  shall  have  to  stay  to  look 
after  Mr.  Ledgeral,  but  Helen  will  be  well  taken  care  of — she 
will  go  in  the  charge  of  a  very  good  friend,"  and  here  Mrs. 
Ledgeral  gave  an  emphatic  nod  of  the  head  and  a  little  confi 
dential  smirk,  as  much  as  to  say,  It's  all  settled. 

Luther  was  saved  from  the  necessity  of  a  reply  by  Mr. 
Whoppers,  who  flourished  up  at  this  moment. 

"  Ah !  Mrs.  Ledgeral,  I  must  congratulate  you.     Pray  tell 


592  NEVER  AGAIN. 

us  when  it'll  be.     Luther  and  myself  are  great  hands  at  a 
secret." 

"  Indeed,  Mr.  Whoppers,  the  report  is,  to  say  the  least  of 
it,  premature.  There  has  been  no  announcement  of  anything 
of  the  kind." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  see.  You  won't  authorize  the  journals  to  say 
anything  about  it  just  yet,  but  in  private  you  count  upon  it, 
eh  ?  I  must  ask  Helen." 

"  Oh,  no,  no  ;  don't  say  a  word  to  her  about  it.  She  is  so 
sensitive  she  will  deeply  resent  any  allusion  of  the  kind,  I  as 
sure  you.  She  will  be  very  angry  with  you." 

"With  me!     Whoppers!     Impossible.      Where  is  she  ?'' 

"  She  has  gone  to  the  evening  parade  with  Count  Isen- 
thal." 

"  It's  all  settled ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers,  taking  Lu 
ther's  arm  and  leading  him  out  for  a  turn  on  the  piazza;  "it's 
all  settled,  but  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  like  it.  Hope  it  hasn't  hit 
you  hard,  old  fellow  ?  Well,  well,  it  isn't,  perhaps,  a  bad 
thing  in  the  end  to  have  a  fellow's  affections  rubbed  up  a 
little  the  wrong  way.  It's  like  rubbing  up  a  cat's  back  ;  it 
makes  the  sparks  fly  at  the  time,  but  both  fur  and  feeling  lie 
snugger  after  it. 

"  Confound  it,"  continued  Mr.  Whoppers  ;  "  those  fellows 
with  handles  to  their  names  come  over  here  and  set  our 
women-folks  half  mad.  And  I  never  knew  any  good  come  of 
it.  At  the  first  go  off  there  were  those  Caton  cases.  Well, 
they  made  rather  brilliant  matches,  but  since  then  look  at  'em. 
There  was  Molly  Boggs,  one  of  the  prettiest  and  sweetest 
girls  and  biggest  dots  in  New  York.  She  could  have  had  the 
pick  and  choice  of  the  jeisnesse  doree,  which  perhaps  is  no  great 
privilege,  but  also  of  the  rising  young  men — the  fellows  with 
a  future  before  them — possible  editors — or,  if  not  quite  so  high 
as  that,  novelists,  statesmen,  bankers,  commission-merchants, 
and  seven-ciphered  millionnaires.  Well,  now,  I  don't  believe 
one-twentieth  part  of  the  lies  afloat,  but  one  can't  say  that 
the  match  was  a  brilliant  one.  And  then  look  at  the  Stich- 
neys.  What  did  they  gain  by  hankering  after  the  aristocracy  ? 


NEVER  AGAIN.  593 

And  then  there  was  that  miserable  affair  of  Miss  Perrywinkle. 
And  there  is  Billet — he  married  off  his  daughter,  d  la  mode  de 
Paris,  and  they  say  that  he  is  quite  willing  to  admit  that  all 
marriage  is  a  lottery.  There's  Madame  la  Duchesse  d'An- 
guelain,  de  Ville  cour, — I  guess  she  wishes  she  had  married 
with  the  Basse  cour.  And  then  there  was  that  affair  of  Mrs. 
De  Graw  Brown.  Why  the  fellow  robbed  her  and  mistreated 
her  in  every  way — locked  her  up  a  close  prisoner,  and  threat 
ened  to  murder  her  by  running  a  needle  in  between  her  cervical 
vertebra.  To  be  sure  there  are  some  who  have  not  done  so 
very  badly.  There's  the  Jones  faction.  They  might  perhaps 
have  stayed  at  home  and  fared  worse — especially  the  Duchess. 
Don't  know  much  of  the  Marquise,  but  the  Duke  is  a  jolly 
good  fellow.  But  perhaps  the  most  appropriate  thing  of  the 
kind  has  been  in  the  matter  of  the  Duchessa  delle  Turretti:  but 
then  she  was  brought  up  with  foreign  tastes,  habits  and  lan 
guages,  and  the  Duke,  no  one  can  deny,  is  a  nice  young  man. 
Still,  one  swallow  don't  make  a  good  long  drink,  and  for  two 
or  three  girls  who  have  bought  not  only  a  title  but  a  decent 
husband  with  it,  there  are  more  than  a  hundred  who  have 
found  themselves  swindled  out  of  youth,  beauty  and  fortune, 
and  with  nothing  but  some  worthless  sprig  of  broken-down 
and  vagabond  nobility  to  show  for  it  all. 

"  I  don't  like  this  business,"  continued  Mr.  Whoppers 
after  a  pause.  "  The  Count  is  a  Count,  no  doubt,  and  rich 
too  ;  but  why  the  Ledgerals  should  push  matters  so  determin 
edly,  and  what  Helen  can  see  in  him  to  make  her  consent  I 
can't  see,  and  especially  if,  as  I  suspect,  she  don't  care  much 
for  him  personally.  She  can't  want  his  title.  She  is  the  most 
sensible  girl  in  New  York  society,  and  society-girls  are  not  all 
fools.  No  thanks,  however,  to  their  education  and  training. 
Why  I  know  a  dozen  who  would  spurn  the  Grand  Duke  of 
Nephelococcygia  himself,  unless  he  came  as  a  nice  young 
man — and  Helen  is  one  of  them.  No,  I  don't  believe  she 
cares  a  straw  for  his  title  of  Count — but  there  is  no  account 
ing  for  feminine  tastes.  Some  girls  like  slate-pencils  better 
than  sugar-candy,  and  prefer  chalk  to  cheese. 
38 


594  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"  Ah,  there's  Boggs  with  a  cigar  in  his  mouth."  And  Mr. 
Whoppers  pulled  out  his  cigar-case,  and  selecting  a  Partiga  of 
what  he  called  the  Srichen  brand,  darted  off  to  Mr.  Boggs  for 
a  light. 

Luther,  left  to  himself,  wandered  into  the  spacious  draw 
ing-room.  He  found  himself  alone  ;  the  lamps  were  not  yet 
lighted  for  the  evening,  but  the  reflex  glow  of  mellow  twilight 
streamed  into  the  eastern  windows,  and  filled  the  vast  room 
with  a  flood  of  quiet,  subdued  radiance.  He  could  just  dis 
tinguish  the  features  of  the  fine  head  of  a  young  girl,  by  Sully, 
hanging  upon  the  wall  ;  and  he  stood  before  the  portrait  for 
some  minutes  in  silence. 

There  was  a  light  footstep  and  the  delicate  froufrou  of 
organdy,  and  a  soft  voice  exclaimed,  "  It  is  a  fine  picture  and 
a  charming  face,  don't  you  think  ? " 

Luther  turned,  and  quietly  took  Helen's  extended  hand. 
His  nerves  had  been  recently  too  well  exercised  in  emotions 
of  all  kinds  to  even  quiver  or  tremble  again.  He  held  the 
soft  hand  for  a  moment.  It  was  not  so  plump  as  he  had 
known  it.  He  looked  into  her  face.  A  less  eager  and  pene 
trating  glance  would  have  shown  him  that  it  had  grown  wan 
and  thin. 

Helen  began  to  feel  a  little  embarrassed  at  the  scrutiny ; 
she  must  force  herself  to  some  commonplace. 

"  You  were  very  much  absorbed,"  she  said,  indicating  the 
picture.  "  It's  a  fine  painting,  and  not  a  bad  face.  Do  you 
know,  some  people  insist  upon  paying  me  the  compliment  of 
saying  that  it  looks  a  little  like  me." 

"  There  is  a  possible  resemblance,"  replied  Luther,  "  be 
tween  you  and  the  original." 

"  In  the  features  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  In  the  expression  ? " 

"  No." 

"  What  then  ? " 

"  In  this  :  that  with  such  beauty  of  face,  such  indications 
of  soul  and  sentiment  and  intellect,  it  may  well  be  that  she, 
too,  has  ere  this  given  some  poor  devil  the  heart-ache." 


NEVER  AGAIN.  595 

The  words  were  uttered  in  a  low  voice,  but  there  was 
something  intensely  bitter  in  the  tone. 

Helen  turned  her  eyes  up  at  the  picture  with  one  wild 
flash,  that  almost  instantly  melted  into  a  dreamy  gaze. 

"  Perhaps  the  resemblance  is  still  more  striking,"  she  mut 
tered,  as  if  speaking  to  herself. 

"How  so?" 

"  In  this" — and  the  whisper  almost  died  in  her  throat — 
"  in  this  :  that  she,  poor  wretch,  may  have  had  the  heart-ache 
too." 

And  as  she  spoke  her  form  seemed  to  shrink  down,  until 
Luther  instinctively  stretched  out  his  arm  to  support  her ;  and 
her  cheek  grew  gray,  almost  ashen,  in  the  fading  light. 

"  Helen  !  oh  Helen  !  "     But  she  motioned  his  arm  away. 

There  was  no  one  in  the  room,  but  a  dozen  people  were 
flitting  by  the  windows  encircling  it  on  three  sides,  and  occa 
sionally  looking  in.  No  one  saw  anything  but  two  young 
people  standing  quietly  before  Sully's  picture. 

'Tis  often  thus,  that  the  most  impassioned  scenes  in  the 
drama  of  life  pass  directly  beneath  our  idle  eyes,  and  we  see 
nothing.  The  flashes  and  corruscations  of  harmless  heat- 
lightning  we  gaze  at  and  wink  and  wonder  ;  but  the  thunder 
bolt  that  rives  the  oak  to  its  heart  often  gathers  its  force  in 
silence,  and  tells  us  nothing  of  itself  until  the  grand  crash. 
A  mild  flirtation,  especially  if  it  have  a  spice  of  the  improper 
— as,  for  instance,  between  a  gray -headed  old  roue  with  mar 
ried  children  and  somebody's  pretty  young  wife — will  furnish 
talk  for  the  town,  that  is,  for  the  town  of  "  our  set ; "  but  a 
deep,  desperate  passion,  on  which  hang  the  issues  of  life  or 
death,  will  sometimes  play  its  game  to  the  end  without  a  single 
gossiping  member  of  the  galerie  being  able  to  distinguish  coin 
or  counter. 

But  why  interrupt  a  love-scene  with  stupid  reflections 
and  lame  comparisons  and  halting  figures  ?  It  is  wrong,  and 
we  haste  back  to  the  young  couple,  who,  side  by  side,  in 
silence  made  two  or  three  turns  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  This  is  folly,"  at  length  said  Helen. 


596  NEVER    AGAIN. 

"  I  know  it,  worse  than  folly  ;  madness  !  " 

"  Why  then  did  you  come  here  ? " 

"  Simply  because  I  could  not  help  myself.  I  had  to  see 
you  once  more.  I  wanted  to  hear  from  your  own  lips  that 
the  thing  is  settled." 

"  It  is  settled  that  we  never  can  be  anything  to  each  other 
but  friends.  You  know  that." 

"  Yes ;  but  I  never  can  seem  to  be  sure  of  it  until  I  hear 
you  are  engaged  to  the  Count.  Tell  me  that  it  is  so,  and  I 
will  go  away  to-morrow  morning.  Don't  say  that  I  have  no 
right  to  question  you.  I  have  the  right — the  right  of  mortal 
pain  and  agony ;  your  own  heart  tells  you  that  I  have  the 
right  to  know  the  exact  truth.  It  can  do  me  no  good 
perhaps,  in  either  way,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  settled  misery 
must  be  better  than  this  fitful  fever  of  doubt,  and  hope,  and 
despair.  Tell  me  then,  are  you  going  to  marry  the  Count?" 

Helen  stopped  short  in  her  walk,  and  clasping  her  hands 
passionately  uttered  a  low  moan.  "  I  must,"  she  cried  ;  "  I 
cannot  help  myself.  I  have  promised  my  father  this  very 
day  that  I  would  within  the  week  give  the  Count  a  favorable 
answer." 

"  And  you  love  him  ? " 

"  How  can  you  ask  such  a  question?  You  mock  me.  I 
do  not  love  him,"  added  Helen  in  a  firmer  tone  ;  "  but  I 
shall  try,  and  I  believe  I  shall  succeed,  for  I  believe  him  to  be 
all  that  is  noble  and  good  !  He  certainly  behaves  to  me  with 
great  generosity  and  consideration.  But,  had  I  reasons  to 
dislike  him,  I  still  must  marry  him ; — not  for  the  poor  pitiful 
reasons  that  all  the  world  will  suppose." 

Helen  slipped  her  arm  within  Luther's  and  looked  up  im 
ploringly  in  his  face.  "  You  will  not  think  so  meanly  of  me. 
You  will  believe  that  I  have  better  and  stronger  reasons  than 
I  can  tell.  Luther  Lansdale,  you  must  believe  me !  It  is  a 
secret,  a  terrible  secret,  between  my  father  and  myself.  You 
have  seen  him  ;  you  know  what  a  sick  man  he  is.  He  is 
dying,  and  I — I  alone  know  the  cause ;  I  alone  can  save  him. 
Don't  think  that  he  is  trying  to  deceive  me  to  what  he  thinks 


NEVER  AGAIN.  597 

my  good.  You  have  but  to  see  him  and  you  would  be  satis 
fied.  You  have  no  idea  how  much  he  has  failed  in  two  or 
three  weeks.  He  looks  like  a  ghost — almost  like  a  corpse." 

"  But  how  can  your  marrying  the  Count  relieve  him  ? "  ex 
claimed  Luther. 

"Oh,  that  I  can't  tell  you — it  is  a  secret — and — and — I 
don't  know  that  I  fully  understand  it  myself.  But  father  tells 
me  so,  and  I  must  believe  him.  He  assures  me  that  he  will 
be  a  well  man  in  a  month  if  I  marry  the  Count,  and  that  the 
whole  family  will  be  saved." 

"  Saved  !  from  what  ? " 

"Well,  perhaps  I — I — should  not — I — ought  not  to  say 
what.  No,  no,  I  cannot  say  what." 

"  I  cannot  understand  it,"  muttered  Luther. 

"You  need  not  understand  it.  It  could  make  no  differ 
ence  to  you — to  me — to  any  one,  if  you  did  understand  it.  Oh, 
I  could  tell  you  something  that  would  make  you  at  least  feel 
it — I  will  tell  you — why  should  I  not  ?  " 

The  little  hand  clasped  Luther's  arm  with  convulsive  ener 
gy,  and  yet  with  no  motion  or  gesture  that  would  have  attrac 
ted  attention,  or  disturbed  the  cool  decorum  of  the  drawing- 
room  had  it  been  filled.  But  as  yet  not  a  soul  had  come  into 
the  rapidly  darkening  room,  save  the  old  porter  with  his  torch 
for  lighting  the  gas. 

"  I  will  tell  you  something  ! — you  will  never  mention  it ! — 
something  which  will  let  you  see  how  impossible  it  is  for  me 
to  resist.  Father  went  down  upon  his  knees  to  me — to  his 
daughter,  down  on  his  knees  this  very  day,  scarce  two  hours 
since,  begging  me  by  all  my  love  for  him,  by  every  considera 
tion  of  affection  and  duty,  to  consent." 

Something  in  the  young  man's  look — something  electric  in 
the  slight  tremor  that  ran  through  his  frame,  startled  the  young 
girl. 

"  Oh,  Luther  !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  you  must  forgive  me  ; 
you  must  forget  me  !  " 

"  Forgive  you  !  "  he  replied,  and  the  low,  stern  tones  of 
his  voice  went  through  and  through  her  heart  with  a  sweeping 


598  .        NEVER    AGAIN. 

thrust.  "Forgive  you,  why  should  I  not?  what  have  I  to  for 
give  ?  Yes,  I  will  forgive  you,  but  I  will  curse  fate  forever. 
And  as  to  forgetting  you,"  he  continued,  swiftly  slipping  his 
arm  round  her  waist  and  holding  her  with  convulsive  force  to 
his  heart,  while  their  parched  and  bloodless  lips  met  for  an 
instant  in  one  fierce,  despairing  kiss ;  "  forget  you,  never ! 
never !  " 

She  tottered  back  from  the  sudden  embrace,  and  instinct 
ively  stretched  out  her  hand  to  the  marble  mantel  piece  for 
support,  just  as  the  first  jet  sprang  into  rlame  under  old  John's 
torch. 

It  is  astonishing  the  amount  of  conventionality  and  social 
propriety  developed  by  one  single  gas-jet.  The  subject  is  a 
curious  one,  and  intimately  connected  with  the  doctrine  of 
correlation  of  forces.  Professor  Tyndal,  who  has  done  so 
much  to  decide  the  musical  properties  of  flames,  ought  to  take 
up  the  question,  and  let  us  know  exactly  how  much  carbon  is 
consumed  to  a  certain  quantity  of  good  conduct,  either  in  the 
streets  or  the  drawing-room  ;  and  how  much  decorum  is  devel 
oped  by  a  stated  number  of  particles  of  oxygen,  clashing  with 
a  given  number  of  particles  of  hydrogen.  The  gas  companies 
could  afford  to  pay  the  expenses  of  the  investigation.  They 
could  add  an  item  to  their  bills — Dr.  to  so  much  propriety ; 
and  at  once  stop  all  the  grumbling  about  their  extortion  and 
swindling. 

The  young  couple  felt  the  influence  of  the  light,  and  in 
stinctively  drew  back  into  positions  that  would  have  satisfied 
the  requisitions  of  Mrs.  Grundy,  had  she  stopped  in  her  walk 
round  and  round  the  piazza,  to  look  into  the  room. 

Luckily  a  minute  was  allowed  for  the  half-fond,  half- 
reproachful  expression  of  mingled  fright,  and  misery,  and 
despair  in  her  face,  and  the  fierce,  reckless  passion  of  his,  to 
resolve  itself  in  both  into  a  quiet  and  subdued  look,  in  which 
hardly  the  keen  and  jealous  eyes  of  Mrs.  Ledgeral  could  have 
traced  any  evidences  of  profound  feeling.  Half  a  minute  only, 
when  that  lady  came  through  one  of  the  open  windows,  fol 
lowed  by  the  Count. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  599 

"  Oh,  Helen  !  you  here  ?  I  have  been  looking  all  over  for 
you.  And  Mr.  Lansdale  too  !  He  has  been  telling  you  all 
about  his  adventure,  I  suppose  ?  Count,  let  me  present  to 
you  Mr.  Lansdale,  one  of  our  clerks  in  the  store  down  town," 
and  Mrs.  Ledgeral  slightly  emphasized  the  last  phrase. 

Luther  winced  a  little.  There  was  something  in  the  bald 
New  Yorkism,  "  a  store  clown  town,"  that  flashed  such  a  bright 
light  into  the  depths  of  the  golden  gulf.  If  she  had  said — the 
house,  or  the  company,  or  the  counting-room — but  a  clerk  in 
a  store  down  town  ! 

It  had  an  excellent  effect  upon  Luther's  manner.  It 
brought  out,  as  if  by  an  electric  ray,  the  fact  engraven  on  his 
mind,  but  which,  nevertheless,  had  a  strange  disposition  to 
occasionally  fade  out  of  consciousness,  that  the  Count  was 
not  the  only  or  the  chief  barrier  between  him  and  Helen  ; 
that  she  would  be  as  far  from  him  if  the  Count  had  never 
risen  above  the  horizon  of  New  York  fashion.  And  so  to  the 
presentation  Luther  bowed  quite  graciously. 

"  Mr.  Whoppers  has  been  telling  us  about  the  affair,  but  I 
should  like  to  have  your  account  a  little  more  in  detail.  Count, 
it  won't  interest  you,  perhaps,  and,  Helen,  you  won't  want  to 
hear  it  all  over  again — we  won't  keep  you.  Luther  will  sit 
down  here  and  talk  to  me  quietly  for  a  little  while.  Mind, 
my  dear,  don't  stroll  away  too  far  ;  I  want  to  go  in  to  tea  in 
half  an  hour. 

"  Lovers  are  so  apt  to  forget  everything  and  everybody  but 
themselves,  and  the  Count  is  so  agreeable,"  continued  Mrs. 
Ledgeral. 

"  Dear  Helen,  she  is  a  good  girl,  and  I  hope  she  will  be 
happy  ;  but  I  don't  know  how  she  will  like  living  in  Germany. 
The  Count,  however,  is  getting  very  much  Americanized,  and 
I  have  great  hopes.  There  are  so  many  foreigners  who  come 
over  and  live  here  for  some  length  of  time,  grumbling  and 
fault-finding  every  moment  of  their  stay.  They  return  to  their 
own  country  for  a  while,  when  back  they  come.  They  have 
had  enough  of  the  old  home,  and  they  always  make  much 
more  quiet  and  agreeable  citizens  on  their  second  visit.  So 
I  have  great  hopes  of  the  Count. 


600  NE  VER  A  GA  IN. 

"And  now  tell  me  something  about  this  old  woman  you 
rescued.  Mr.  Boggs  says  she  is  quite  a  character  and  that 
she  is  worth  considerable  property — owns  a  house  or  two — 
have  you  any  idea  who  she  is  and  where  she  comes  from  ?  Is 
she  really  French  or  German  ?  " 

Luther  had  hardly  time  to  reply  to  the  question  when  Mr. 
Boggs,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Ledgeral,  entered  the  room.  The 
smallest  nod  of  the  head  was  all  the  salutation  the  latter 
vouchsafed  to  the  young  man.  But  Luther  was  so  shocked 
by  the  change  in  the  great  man's  appearance,  that  he  hardly 
noticed  the  scant  courtesy. 

"If  every  man's  internal  care  was  written  on  his  brow  as 
plainly  as  it  is  on  that  man's,"  thought  Luther, 

" '  How  many  would  our  pity  share  who  claim  our  envy  now.'  " 

"  What  can  it  be  ?  and  how  can  Mrs.  Ledgeral  be  so  blind  ? 
Has  she  no  eyes  ?  Can't  she  see  ?  The  man  is  dying  of  men 
tal  misery — what  can  it  be?  I  cannot,  cannot  understand  it !  " 
and  Luther  took  advantage  of  Mrs.  Struggles'  appearance  at 
this  moment  to  step  off  for  a  solitary  stroll  to  the  falls. 

Later  in  the  evening,  he  was  standing  in  an  angle  of  the 
piazza,  overlooking  the  river.  The  parlors,  large  and  small, 
were  all  lighted,  but  as  the  weather  was  warm  the  company, 
generally,  remained  outside.  The  colored  band,  in  the  large 
room,  kept  pouring  forth  its  inviting  strains  of  dance-music, 
but  no  one  heeded.  West  Point  never  was  a  great  place  for 
dancing.  It  never  could  compare  in  this  respect  with  many 
of  its  rivals.  The  cotillion  was  never  known  to  begin  there  at 
ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  last  without  intermission  until 
twelve  at  night. 

Mr.  Boggs  says  that  this  is  owing  to  the  fact  that  there  are 
never  so  many  young  dancing  people  as  at  the  other  places, 
and  that  the  traditions  of  the  place  are  not  of  the  saltatious 
kind.  But  this  only  explains  the  matter  in  part.  We  must 
look  deeper.  Mr.  Whoppers  says  the  air  is  not  so  jiggerous 
as  at  Sharon,  or  New  London,  or  Newport ;  but  that  is  non 
sense,  as  well  in  idea  as  in  words.  Two  reasons,  however, 


NEVER  AGAIN.  60 1 

stand  out  distinctly — one  is,  that  an  immense  amount  of  dan 
cing  capacity  is  used  up  by  the  system  of  academic  hops.  The 
Government  has  a  lot  of  young  bears  in  training,  and  it  skil 
fully  avails  itself  of  feminine  influence ;  and  it  adroitly  keeps 
up  the  supply  by  somehow  disseminating  the  notion  among 
the  very  young  girls  that  it  is  quite  a  privilege.  There  is  a 
back  action  in  this  as  in  all  motion.  Miss  Dickenchild  is  the 
belle  of  the  season.  She  has  danced  all  over  America  and  all 
over  Europe.  She  has  danced  at  Constantinople,  and  Cairo,  and 
Jerusalem,  and  Damascus,  and  once  even,  while  travelling  in 
the  Holy  Land,  took  a  turn,  just  for  fun,  with  Bucky  Stringsby 
one  evening,  in  front  of  the  tent  on  the  shore  of  the  Dead 
Sea,  very  much  to  the  delectation  of  Sheik  Abdurahman  ben 
Soulimun  iben  Abram  and  his  friends — can  it  be  expected  that 
she — a  girl  who  has  stood  up  with_  Count  Fidil  Fadal  at  Com- 
piegne,  and  had  Prince  Charming's  arm  round  her  waist  for 
half-an-hour  at  Delmonico's,  should  take  any  interest  in  cadet 
hops  ?  Not  she,  and  thus  comes  a  reflex  air,  or  aura,  that  is 
not  favorable  to  dancing  at  the  Large  Hotel. 

Another  reason  is,  unquestionably,  the  width  and  extent 
of  the  piazzas.  Everybody  likes  to  get  outside,  and  keep 
outside,  when  the  weather  will  permit.  There  is  a  fine  large 
room  almost  vacant,  and  plenty  of  light  and  music,  but 
somehow  people  prefer  to  sit  around  and  look  through  the 
windows,  and  the  dancing  is  half  the  time  left  to  the 
children. 

And  this  illustrates  a  curious  law  of  aggregation.  Just 
in  proportion  as  people  at  parties  and  social  junketings  of 
all  kinds  are  crowded  together,  the  saltatory  disposition  is 
generated.  Segregate  them — give  them  plenty  of  room — and 
nobody  cares  for  dancing ;  but  crowd  your  small  parlors  with 
a  solid,  panting  mass  of  humanity,  fill  your  hall  as  com 
pactly  as  a  box  of  red  herrings,  and  load  your  staircase  till 
it  cracks,  and  instantly  forty  couple  will  spring  into  the  air 
with  bacchantic  fury,  and  woe  !  woe  !  unto  any  obese  old  fogy, 
or  corpulent  dowager,  whose  too  solid  flesh  won't  melt, 
thaw,  or  resolve  itself  for  the  occasion. 


602  NEVER  AGALV. 

Why  is  this  ?  The  terms  of  the  problem  are  as  patent  as  the 
solution  is  difficult.  It  is  a  mystery.  Darwin  don't  allude 
to  it ;  Herbert  Spencer  barely  touches  the  question  ;  Ham 
ilton  and  Mill  ignore  it  entirely  ;  Gladstone,  in  his  imitations 
of  Homer,  gives  it  the  go-by,  and  Disraeli,  in  his  treatise  de 
mysterio  Asiatico  omnibiisque  rebus  et  quibusdam  aliis,  treats 
it  from  a  wrong  point  of  view.  On  this  side  of  the  water  we 
are  equally  destitute  of  philosophical  acumen  directed  to 
this  subject.  Beecher,  in  his  lectures,  touches  everything  under 
and  above  heaven,  but  he  has  not  touched  the  rationale  of 
this  law  of  aggregation.  Whence  and  why  is  it  ?  General 
Grant  may  perhaps  know,  but  he  won't  tell.  Greeley  is  of 
course  willing  to  tell,  but  he  don't  know.  Agassiz  would  be 
good  authority,  but  he  is  not  sound  on  the  evolution  ques 
tion  ;  and  Emerson  and  the  autocrat  of  the  breakfast-table 
could  talk  about  it  delightfully  by  the  hour,  but  perhaps 
without  anybody  except  themselves  being  a  bit  the  wiser. 

We  want,  then,  some  one  who,  aided  only  by  the  pure 
light  of  science,  can  grope  his  way  back  to  the  origin  of 
things,  put  his  finger  upon  the  ultimate  fact,  and  thus  solve 
the  mystery  in  the  terms  of  simple  well-known  physical 
conditions,  and  in  strict  accordance  with  the  theory  of  de 
velopment.  Now,  I  know  no  one  who  has  even  made  the 
attempt  except  Uncle  Shippen,  and  at  the  risk  of  being 
tedious  and  of  keeping  Luther  standing  too  long  in  that 
dark  angle  of  the  piazza,  we  must  as  succinctly  as  possible 
give  his  views. 

The  old  gentleman  takes  off  his  wig,  in  order  to  allow  his 
ideas  clear  play. 

"  Now  I  am  not  going  into  the  development  theory  in 
general,  or  into  the  sufficiency  of  Darwin's  principles  of  nat 
ural  and  sexual  selection  ;  but  I'll  just  answer  your  question, 
why  aggregation  excites  the  idea  of  dancing, — why  in  society 
the  greater  the  jam  the  more  everybody  wants  to  dance. 
The  fact  is,  dancing  was  originally  the  product,  the  outgrowth, 
of  aggregation.  The  idea  that  there  is  any  natural  and 
necessary  connection  between  certain  musical  sounds,  or  the 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


603 


mental  emotions  excited,  and  certain  regular  and  rhythmic 
movements  of  the  body,  is  absurd.  The  whole  thing  comes 
in  this  wise  :  Away  back,  just  after  the  glacial  period,  eight 
hundred  and  fifty  six  thousand  years  ago,  when  the  earth  was 
beginning  to  renounce  the  extreme  eccentricity  which  had  char 
acterized  her  motions,  the  climate  was  still  exceedingly  cold  in 
winter,  and  man — or  man's  progenitors — suffered  at  times 
terribly.  'Tis  true,  as  the  biologists  prove,  that  at  that 
time  our  folks  were  all  covered  with  thick  coats  of  ha-ir,  but, 
in  the  entire  absence  of  artificial  clothing  and  without  the 
knowledge  of  fire,  that  was  hardly  sufficient  to  keep  them  « 
warm  at  all  times.  Gradually  the  fact  began  to  dawn  upon 
their  minds  that  by  crowding  up  close  together  a  degree  of 
pleasant  warmth  was  generated  and  preserved.  Gradually,  in 
the  course  of  ages,  the  knowledge  of  this  fact  spread  until 
it  became  the  general  custom  to  huddle  up  together  to  keep 
out  of  the  cold.  The  idea,  at  first  the  result  of  observation 
and  reason,  becomes  at  length,  in  the  course  of  a  hundred 
thousand  years  or  so,  instinctive ;  it  passes  beyond  the  region  of 
mere  consciousness — forces  its  way  along  the  iter  a  tertio  ad 
quartum  ventriculum,  where  it  is  stowed  away,  and  becomes  for 
ever  the  property  of  the  human  mind.  And  now  another  fact  is 
observed — another  idea  is  generated,  and  either  stowed  away  in 
a  ventricle,  or  hung  up  on  the  hippocampus  major  to  dry.  It 
is  observed  that  muscular  exertion — jumping  up  and  down — 
generates  warmth ;  and  in  the  course  of  another  hundred  ' 
thousand  years  the  shivering  crowds  of  quiescent  proto-homos 
become  active,  jumping  masses  of  intelligent  humanity.  Ancl  the 
colder  it  is  the  closer  they  huddle,  and  the  closer  they  huddle 
the  harder  they  jump,  until  the  ideas  of  aggregation  and 
saltation  become  indissolubly  associated,  while  the  original 
and  common  cause — the  cold — or  in  other  words  the  necessity 
of  adapting  life  to  the  conditions  under  which  it  is  developed, 
if  there  is  to  be  any  life  at  all,  is  forgotten.  In  this  way 
comes  dancing,  and  it  can  hardly  be  supposed  that  its  devel 
opment  was  unaccompanied  by  many  changes.  Jumping  up 
and  down  in  a  crowd  for  ages  must  have  materially  assis- 


604  NEVER  AC  A IV. 

ted  in  wearing  the  fur  off;  millions  of  tails  must  have  been 
trodden  upon  millions  of  times ;  and  it  may  be  partly  owing 
to  that  fact  that  we  are  without  that  graceful  appendage  at 
this  day.  Language  was  in  the  course  of  development  at 
that  time,  and  gradually  the  jumping  came  to  be  accom 
panied  by  shouts  and  cries — sometimes  of  pleasure,  as  when 
a  proto-homo  found  a  genial  warmth  diffusing  itself  through 
his  veins  ;  sometimes  of  pain  or  rage,  as  he  found  his  tail 
trodden  upon ;  sometimes  of  affection,  when  his  immediate 
relations  alone  were  dancing ;  sometimes  of  anger  and  dis 
gust  and  jealousy,  when  outside  jumpers  squeezed  themselves 
into  his  family  circle.  And  from  these  cries  and  shouts, 
the  transition  to  chants  and  singing  would  not  take  more 
than  another  hundred  thousand  years.  And  now  the  sound 
of  ^Eolus  among  the  reeds  is  noticed.  Imitation  and  in 
vention  come  in  play.  The  tabor  and  pipe  is  added  to  the 
voice,  and  in  the  course  of  fifty  thousand  years  more  the 
association  of  music  and  dancing,  which  at  first  was  one 
only  of  concomitance,  becomes  one  of  fundamental  neces 
sity. 

"  The  Bible  and  the  ancient  classics  are  full  of  delightful 
pictures  of  joyous  crowds  dancing;  sometimes  the  domestic 
dance  in  the  cool  shade — sub  tegminefagi. 

'  When  softly  slow  the  Lydian  measures  move, 
Or  when  to  brisk  airs  and  speaking  pipe 
They  frisk — they  bound.' 

Sometimes  it  was  the  mediatorial  dance  around  the  altar,  or 
before  the  god,  and  sometimes  the  grave,  majestic  war-dance 
— the  Pyrrhica,  that  Cornelius  Scriblerius  and  many  other 
learned  men  have  so  often  regretted  has  not  been  kept  in  fash 
ion  to  our  day. 

"  Of  course,"  continued  Uncle  Shippen,  mopping  his  bald 
head  with  a  voluminous  blue  silk  handkerchief,  "  I  cannot 
dwell  upon  these  pictures — not  even  upon  that  extraordinary 
performance  of  King  David, — or  upon  that  wonderful  dance 
of  Diana  in  the  temple  of  Delphi, — nor  upon  the  dance  of  Venus 
at  the  rising  of  the  moon — 


NEVER  AGAIN.  605 

'  Tarn  Cytherea  chores  ducit  Venus,  immanente  Luna, 
j  unctaeque  nymphis  Gratia  decentes 
Alterno  terrain  quatiunt  pede.' 

I  cannot  go  into  a  consideration  of  Plato's  division  of  dances 
into  orchestric  and  palistric,  or  more  than  enumerate  the 
noble  and  severe  emmeleai,  the  lively  cordax,  the  satyric  sich- 
inis,  the  Dionesice^  sacred  to  Bacchus,  and  the  memphitick  of  the 
Athenians,  which  was  danced  with  sword,  javelin  and  buckler. 
I  will  only  allude  to  one  of  the  earliest  instances  of  dancing 
on  the  grand  scale — that  of  the  great  Osiris,  of  which  we  have 
the  authentic  account  in  Diodorus.  Whether  Bacchus  and 
Osiris  were  the  same  or  separate  individualities  ;  whether  the 
Greeks  stole  the  story  of  their  god's  Indian  expedition  from 
the  Egyptians,  it  matters  not — the  great  Osiris  was  unquestion 
ably  the  most  renowned  dancing-master  of  ancient  times — 
the  Charruaud,  the  Ferrero,  the  Dodsworth  of  Egypt,  and  he 
led  his  crowded  school  of  dancers  from  Father  Nilus  to — " 

"  Farther  Inde,"  interposed  Mr.  Whoppers. 

"  Don't  interrupt  me,  sir.  Diodorus  tells  us  that  he  was  a 
right  jolly  fellow — that  he  took  along  with  him  the  nine  muses, 
headed  by  Apollo,  and  of  course  there  was  among  them 
Terpsichore,  and  there  was  Pan,  who  could  not  only  pipe  for 
others,  but  who  could  shake  a  featly  hoof  for  himself;  and  then 
there  was  Silenus,  and  the  satyrs — regular  dancing  fellows,  who 
would,  were  they  members  of  our  society,  be  the  very  first  on 
Brown's  list  of  saltatory  availables  ;  and  gayly  this  crowd  dan 
ced  its  way  through  Lydia  and  Ethiopia — through  the  country 
of  the  Pygmies,  through  the  country  of  the  Rhizophages,  or  root- 
eaters  ;  the  Icthyophages,  or  fish-eaters ;  the  Chelonophages, 
or  terrapin-eaters;  the  Hylophages,  or  wood-eaters;  the 
Acridophages  or  locust-eaters,  and  all  the  other  phages,  and 
so  on  across  to  India,  and  again  up  west  to  where  at  home 
the  treacherous  Typhoon,  who  probably  couldn't  dance,  a.waited 
the  coming  of  his  too-confiding  brother. 

"  And  now,  why  do  I  mention  this  old  story?  Just  for  a  con 
trast.  In  fancy  I  have  gone  over  the  ground  with  this  dan 
cing  expedition  a  hundred  times,  but  I  declare  to  you  that  the 


606  NEVER   AGAIN. 

picture  of  this  army,  even  when  dancing  its  best,  is  not  half  so 
striking,  not  half  so  curious,  as  we  get  by  running  back  along 
the  clue  of  science  a  million  years  or  so  to  the  beginning  of  things, 
and  in  imagination  assisting  at  one  of  those  earlier  dancing 
assemblies.  A  thousand,  ten  thousand,  perhaps  fifty  thou 
sand  hairy,  long-tailed  catarrhine  proto-homos  are  assembled 
in  the  cool  of  the  evening  ;  a  herd  of  megatheria  are  brows 
ing  on  the  upper  slopes  of  the  valley;  a  gigantic  icthyosau- 
rus,  forty  feet  long,  flounders  on  the  sand  of  the  lake  shore  ; 
a  cloud  of  pterodactyl^ — a  kind  of  bat  as  big  as  an  elephant — 
whirl  in  rapid  and  graceful  circles  through  the  air.  Our  an 
cestors  shelter  themselves  from  the  cold  wind  under  the  lee 
of  a  grove  of  huge  conifers  that  stretch  their  heads  away  up  five 
hundred  feet  into  the  sky.  But  the  thermometer  falls  ;  the 
air  grows  colder  ;  they  huddle  up  closer,  closer  still.  They 
at  length  begin  to  jump  and  scream — the  fur  flies — tails  curl 
and  snap — the  human  race,  in  one  of  its  brightest  aspects,  in 
one  of  its  loveliest  instincts,  is  amaking.  Wonderful  sight ! — it 
beats  the  grand  dance  of  Osiris  or  Bacchus.  It  beats  all  the 
ancient  dances  which  I  have  enumerated.  It  beats  even  the 
German,  which,  in  the  intense  childishness  of  its  figures,  the 
concentrated  silliness  of  its  movements,  and  the  general  air 
of  solemn  and  profound  donkeyism  that  pervades  it,  is  one  of 
the  most  mysterious  instances  of  development — one  of  the 
most  remarkable  cases  of  the  adaptation  of  life,  striving  to  be 
elegant  and  cultivated,  to  the  imperious  conditions  of  super 
fine  and  tasteless  inanity,  that  we  can  see  in  modern  times." 

And  so  "Uncle  Shippen  would  run  on.  Perhaps  we 
ought  to  apologize  to  the  reader  for  giving  his  ravings,  but 
we  certainly  owe  no  apology  to  Luther,  whom  we  left 
standing  in  an  angle  of  the  piazza.  He  has  been  too  well 
occupied.  The  view  was  one  of  unsurpassed  beauty.  But 
we  have  described  it,  and  will  not  now  dwell  upon  it — 
stopping  only  to  say  that  the  sentiment  of  the  scene  was,  at 
that  hour  of  the  evening,  one  of  mysterious  tenderness  and 
calm  repose  of  feeling. 

Luther  looked  down  upon  the  placid  river — a  silver  band 


NEVER  AGAIN.  607 

of  water  quietly  floating  a  world  of  wealth — nothing  but  a 
narrow  river,  but  of  such  an  awful  depth,  and  it  divides 
mountains !  The  mountains,  however,  make  no  fuss  about 
it ;  they  take  it  easy,  and  calmly  fulfil  the  duties  of  ar 
resting  the  clouds,  and  hoarding  the  rain,  and  shading  the 
valleys,  and  reflecting  the  sunsets. 

The  reader  must  have  perceived,  ere  this,  that  Luther's 
mind  was  of  the  discursive  order,  and  that  he  sometimes 
rambled  far  afield  for  his  figures — so  far  perhaps,  that  when 
he  got  back  again  his  flowers  of  rhetoric  were  not  always 
of  the  freshest  perfume  or  color.  Never  mind,  my  dear 
young  man;  the  clever  critics,  and  stern  purists,  and  logical 
thinkers  of  the  Nation,  or  the  Athenceum,  or  the  Spectator,  may 
be'down  upon  your  future  opus  magnum,  like  a  devil's  darning- 
needle  on  a  blue  bottle  fly,  but  in  the  matter  of  figures,  it  is, 
as  in  diamond-hunting,  better  to  have  sought  and  missed  the 
lustrous  gem — only  to  find 

"  The  carbuncle  glowering  blood  and  milder  amethyst, 
And   sapphire  with  its  ray  serene" — 

than  not  to  have  sought  at  all.  Thorn-trees  and  wild  sage- 
bushes  are  not  beautiful  things  in  and  of  themselves,  but  they 
brighten  up  wonderfully  the  scenery  of  Sahara  and  Nevada. 
So  an  ugly  or  stunted  metaphor  or  simile  may  perchance 
relieve  a  stretch  of  aridity  that  without  them  the  carping 
critic  would  utterly  refuse  to  travel  over. 

Luther  was  thus  learning  by  heart  the  lesson  of  the  land 
scape  when  two  ladies,  stopping  in  their  walk,  and  leaning 
over  the  ballustrade  beside  him,  continued  their  conversation 
apparently  unconscious  of  his  presence.  He  knew  by  their 
voices  that  the  speakers  were  Mrs.  Ledgeral  and  her  friend 
Mrs.  Struggles. 

"  No,  I  don't  like  his  being  here,"  said  Mrs.  Ledgeral. 
"I  hive  every  confidence  in  Helen,  and  I  have  every  confi 
dence  in  him.  He  is  a  young  man  of  very  correct  notions. 
He  knows  how  cruel  it  would  be  for  a  young  man  of  no  fortune 
to  destroy  forever  the  happiness  of  a  young  girl  of  Helen's 
position.  If  Helen  was  ir.  a  different  set  now" — and  Mrs. 


608  NEVER  AGAIN. 

Ledgeral  paused,  and  gave  a  gentle  sigh,  perhaps  a  tribute 
of  memory  to  her  old  East  Broadway  days  when  her  heart 
was  young. 

Luther  would  have  withdrawn  from  his  corner,  but  he 
could  not  do  so  without  attracting  attention,  and  he  rested  in 
hopes  that  the  ladies  would  resume  their  walk. 

"  As  you  say,  my  dear,"  replied  Miss  Struggles,  "  if  Helen 
were  not  a  girl  of  society,  a  fashionable  girl — in  short,  your 
daughter,  my  dear — it  might  not  be  so  bad.  They  say  such 
kind  of  things  are  happening  among  common  people  every 
day.  But  Helen  !  Oh,  I  assure  you  there  is  not  a  girl  of  our 
set  whom  I  should  regret  more  to  see  throw  herself  away." 

"  There  is  no  danger  of  that,"  replied  Mrs.  Ledgeral  a  lit 
tle  sharply  ;  "  she  will  take  the  Count.  Her  father  has  set 
his  heart  upon  it.  I  never  knew  him  so  determined  about  any 
thing  before,  and  she  has  promised  to  obey  him.  But  the 
young  man  has,  I  am  afraid,  touched  her  fancy  with  his  fine 
person  and  his  good  manners,  and  his  poetry,  and  all  that ; 
and  besides,  that  steamboat  adventure,  and  his  rapid  rise  in 
the  firm,  has  given  him  a  hold  on  her  feelings.  She  looks 
upon  him  as  a  kind  of  protege,  so  that,  although  I  don't  dis 
trust  her,  or  fear  him,  I  am  afraid  that  his  presence  here  may 
trouble  her  mind — -may  give  her  unnecessary  pain." 

"Why  not  tell  him  to  go  away?"  demanded  Mrs.  Strug 
gles.  "  Tell  him  to  go  back  at  once  to  the  city.  I  am  sure 
you  have  a  right  to  say  as  much  as  that  to  a  common  clerk  in 
the  firm." 

"  You  are  perfectly  absurd,  my  dear ;  you  always  are. 
How  can  I  tell  him  that  ?  I  don't  want  him  to  go  back  to  the 
city.  Not  that  I  am  at  all  afraid  of  him,  but  I  want  to  take 
Helen  down  to  the  city  in  a  day  or  two.  It  is  getting  very 
late  in  the  season,  and  you  know  when  people  begin  to  leave 
here  they  all  go  off  in  flocks,  like  the  birds.  One  week  the 
house  is  full  and  the  next  empty  and  shut  up  ;  and  I  want  to 
get  back  now,  for  I  have  so  much  to  do — so  many  prepara 
tions  to  make.  Mr.  Whoppers  tells  me  that  he  has  half  a 
mind  to  set  off  for  a  long  trip  to  the  White  Mountains  and 


NEVER  AGAIN.  609 

Canada  and  the  lakes,  if  he  can  get  this  young  Lansdale  to 
go  with  him.  That  would  suit  me  best.  I  hope  he  will  go. 
I  hope,  for  Helen's  sake,  they  will  start  at  once.  Come,  let 
us  go  in  ;  it  is  getting  chilly, "and  I  see  they  are  trying  to  get 
up  a  dance." 

Luther  turned,  a  moment  afterwards,  and  saw  the  yellow 
whiskers  of  Mr.  Whoppers  lighted  up  by  the  glow  of  his 
Havana. 

"  Look  here,  old  fellow  ! "  exclaimed  Luther,  "  are  you 
disposed  for  that  trip  yet  ? " 

"I  am;  I  shall  never  have  a  better  opportunity.  Are  you 
willing  to  go? " 

"  Go  !  I  am  ready  to  go  anywhere — Canada,  Labrador, 
Baffin's  Bay,  or  the  devil." 

"  So  !  Well,  if  you  are  ready  to  travel  as  far  as  that  you 
are  willing  to  start  early  ? " 

"  Yes,  to-morrow.  We  must  take  the  seven  o'clock  up- 
train." 

"  Well,  that's  early.  I  should  like  to  stay  here  a  day  or 
two  longer." 

"  Not  a  day,  not  an  hour  beyond  seven  to-morrow  morn 
ing,"  exclaimed  Luther,  in  a  passionate  tone,  "if  you  want 
my  company !  " 

"  Ah,  youngster,  you  feel  bad  now,  but — 

"  Feel  bad !  not  a  bit  of  it.  I've  got  no  feelings,  good, 
bad,  or  indifferent.  I've  chucked  feelings,  sentiments,  desires, 
everything,  over  the  cliff  there.  They  are  down  with  the  wreck 
of  the  old  Montaigne,  full  forty  fathoms  deep,  and  I  mean  to 
keep  'em  there  the  rest  of  my  life." 

"  What  the  devil  possessed  me  to  bring  you  up  here"!  " 
exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers,  pressing  Luther's  arm. 

"  Oh,  you  are  not  to  blame,  my  dear  old  fellow.  You 
didn't  know  that  I  was  so  foolish  ;  but  it  takes  pretty  tight 
squeezing  to  get  out  the  last  drop  of  hope,  it's  such 
sticky  stuff;  but  I  believe  this  evening  I  have  scrubbed  my 
heart  out  clean.  And  now  I'll  go  into  the  parlor  and  see  if 
I  can  get  just  one  dance." 
39 


6 io  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"  Like  a  silly  moth,  eh  ? " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  I've  got  no  wings  to  singe.  I'm  noth 
ing  but  a  grub,  you  know.  Come  on,  I'll  show  you.  I  feel 
like  dancing.  Now,  if  never  again,  my  first  book  of  life  is 
finished,  and  I  want  to  stamp  a  colophon  to  it.  That's  some 
thing  in  your  style,  eh?  only  it's  a  great  deal  better  than  most 
of  yours." 

"Ah,  I  understand — 

'And  now  I  have  come,  with  this  lost  love  of  mine, 
To  tread  but  one  measure,  drink  one  cup  of  wine.' 

Go   ahead,  young  one,  and   get    through  with  it ;  if  we  get 
off  so  early  in  the  morning  we  must  write  our  letters  to-night." 

The  Ledgeral  party  sat,  the  centre  of  a  large  group,  in  one 
corner  of  the  room — Mr.  Ledgeral  himself  a  little  apart,  and 
although  apparently  looking,  and  occasionally  replying  to  some 
of  the  female  chatter  going  on  around  him,  he  was  evidently, 
in  mind,  far  from  the  spirit  of  the  scene. 

Luther  went  up  to  him,  saluted  him  respectfully  in  an  easy, 
quiet  tone  ;  told  him  of  his  intention  to  travel  with  Mr. 
Whoppers ;  stated  his  own  conviction  that  they  would  not 
need  him  for  several  weeks  at  Burling  Slip,  and  expressed  a 
hope  that  on  his  return  he  should  have  the  pleasure  of  hear 
ing  that  the  great  merchant's  health  had  been  completely  re 
stored. 

Mr.  Ledgeral  was  quite  dumfounded.  Luther's  assured, 
but  respectful  tone  and  manner,  was  irresistible.  If  he  had 
been  an  old  established  merchant,  one  of  that  class  for  whom 
Providence  especially  designed  creation  in  general  and  New 
York  in  particular,  his  aplomb  could  not  have  been  more  per 
fect  and  more  effective.  Mr.  Ledgeral  started,  fidgeted  for  a 
moment  in  his  chair,  and  ended  by  half  rising  and  extending 
his  hand.  Luther  took  it,  pressed  it  respectfully — it  was  the 
hand  of  Helen's  father — and  turned  away,  luckily  in  time  to 
prevent  Mr.  Ledgeral  so  far  committing  himself  as  to  mumble 
out  something  about  the  young  man's  coming  some  time  or 
other  to  dine  with  him. 

Luther  turned  to  Mrs.  Ledgeral.     Formidable  as  she  had 


NEVER   AGAIN.  6ll 

always  seemed  to  his  excitable  imagination,  he  now  felt 
himself  elevated  by  the  dignity  of  his  despair  to  an  equality 
with  her,  or  any  other  leader  of  society.  He  paid  his  com 
pliments  and  took  his  conge  with  a  decisive  grace  that  aston 
ished,  as  well  as  pleased,  Mrs.  Ledgeral,  and  that,  for  the 
moment,  laid  the  affected  fine-ladyism  of  Mrs.  Struggles  quite 
flat.  Mr.  Boggs  looked  on  and  enjoyed  the  little  scene.  It 
had  often  required  all  the  supercilious  insouciance  of  a  society- 
man  to  put  down  Mrs.  Struggles,  and  now  Luther's  quiet  self- 
assertiveness  toppled  her  over  at  the  first  touch. 

"  You  have  not  danced  this  evening,"  whispered  Luther, 
as  he  leaned  over  Helen's  chair.  "  Won't  you  give  me  one 
turn?" 

"  I  can't,"  she  replied  ;  "  the  Count  has  just  this  moment 
asked  me  and  I  have  declined.  I  cannot  dance  to-night." 

"  You  cannot  refuse  me.  Just  one  turn  or  two.  I  shall 
never  trouble  you  again,  you  know.  I  am  going  away  ;  per 
haps  we  shall  never  meet  again  ;  but  if  we  do,  you  can  trust 
my  sense  of  propriety,  my  savoir  faire.  I  should  never  pre 
sume  to  ask  such  a  favor  from  Madame  la  Comtesse." 

This  was  said  with  a  sarcastic  intonation  of  the  voice,  a 
something  of  injured  and  angry  innocence  lending  emphasis 
to  the  words. 

Why  is  it  that  men  are  so  apt  to  assume  this  tone,  as  if  the 
woman  is  alone  responsible  for  any  muddle  in  matters  that 
love  gets  into  ?  We  should  say  that  it  is  because  he  is  in 
general  the  pleading  and  imploring  party,  and  finds  the 
sarcastic  tone  and  the  reproach  by  implication  a  powerful 
weapon.  But  if  Mr.  Whoppers  were  asked  he  would  probably 
more  concisely  reply :  "  It  is  the  nature  of  the  beast." 

Helen  looked  up  over  her  shoulder  with  a  reproachful 
glance.  Her  lip  quivered,  and  it  required  a  violent  effort  to 
keep  the  sharp  spasm  of  agony  from  finding  expression  in  her 
face. 

Ah  !  had  the  best  steed  in  the  west  been  standing  saddled 
and  bridled  at  the  hall-door,  beshrew  me  if  I  don't  think  that 
Luther  could  have  swung  her  to  the  croup  without  much  re- 


612  NEVER  AGAIN. 

sistance  on  her  part.  But — and  mark  the  advance  of  civiliza 
tion — there  would  have  been  no  mounting  of  clansmen,  not  a 
soul  would  have  ridden  or  ran.  People  would  simply  have 
said,  "  How  shocking  !  " 

Luther  bowed  politely  to  the  Count  and  addressed  him  in 
French. 

"  I  am  going  away  to-morrow.  I  shall,  perhaps,  never 
have  an  opportunity  of  dancing  with  Miss  Ledgeral  again. 
She  refuses  me,  and  says  she  has  already  declined  to  dance 
with  you.  Won't  you  allow  me  to  ask  you  to  help  me  in  this  ? 
I  am  sure,  if  you  will  have  the  generosity  to  join  me  in  the 
request,  she  will  not  refuse. 

The  Count  looked  a  little  confused  for  a  moment  at  this 
sudden  address,  but  instantly  recovering  he  replied  pleasantly, 
"  Oh,  as  Mademoiselle  pleases ;  I  have  no  claims  upon  her." 

"  You  see,"  said  Luther,  turning  to  Helen  and  offering  his 
hand  ;  and  the  next  moment  his  arm  was  around  her  waist, 
supporting  her  in  the  giddy  gyrations  that  sometimes  excite 
and  oftentimes  cover  so  much  tumultuous  whirling  of  the 
heart 

"  So  stately  his  form  and  so  lovely  her  face, 
That  never  a  hall  such  a  polka  did  grace," 

whispered  Mr.  Whoppers  to  Mrs.  Struggles. 

"  La,  Mr.  Whoppers,  you  editors  do  say  such  funny  things. 
Is  those  lines  yours  ? " 

"  No,  ma'am  ;  I  am  not  in  that  line.  I  borrowed  them 
from  Sir  Walter." 

"  Oh  yes,  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.  I've  seen  one  of  his 
books  ;  I  forget  the  title — something  about  the  floss." 

"  A  floss  of  silk?"  gently  queried  Mr.  Whoppers. 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"Oh,  then  I  recollect;  it  is  'The  Knot  in  the  Floss.'" 

"  That's  it.     Don't  you  think  it  beautiful,  Mr.  Whoppers  ? " 

"I  do ;  the  characters  are  so  natural." 

"  Oh  yes,  especially  what's-her-name,  when  she  unlaces  the 
helmet  of  the  wounded  knight." 

"  Oh  yes,  or  when  the  other  fellow,  what-do-you-call-him, 


NEVER  AGAIN.  613 

throws  his  battle-axe  at  her  head,  and  exclaims  in  a  voice  of 
thunder  and  with  a  deep  frown  on  his  brow,  '  Avaunt  thee, 
thou  miserable  old  made-up  sham  of  a  woman.'  " 

Mrs.  Struggles  fidgeted  for  a  moment,  and  then  decis 
ively  turned  the  conversation  from  literature  to  the  dance. 

"  Look,  Mr.  Whoppers,  don't  you  think  that  couple  per 
form  the  '  Boston  dip'  beautiful  ? " 

"  Beautiful,  indeed  ;  I  don't  know  that  I  have  ever  seen 
a  couple  do  it  better.  But  I  don't  like  it  as  well  as  the  '  Balti 
more  loll.' " 

"  The  '  Baltimore  loll,'  Mr.  Whoppers  ?  " 

"  Why,  don't  you  know  the  '  Baltimore  loll,'  Mrs.  Strug 
gles?" 

It  was  very  difficult  for  Mrs.  Struggles  to  admit  that 
there  was  anything  in  the  fashionable  line  that  she  did  not 
know  ;  but,  in  reply  to  Mr.  Whoppers,  she  was  obliged  to 
shake  her  head. 

"  And  don't  you  know  the  '  Philadelphia  squirm  ? '  Ah, 
that  is  because  you  haven't  been  to  Sharon  this  season.  Lucy 
Judkins  has  been  setting  them  all  wild  with  it ;  but  the  latest 
and  decidedly  the  best  thing  out  is  the  '  California  hug.' 
Haven't  seen  it  yet  ?  Why,  they  say  that  young  Sopkins  gave 
it  at  Miss  Jones'  soiree  dansante,  at  Newport,  last  week,  to  the 
perfect  delight  of  every  woman  he  danced  with.  Mr.  Boggs 
knows  all  about  it ;  you  must  get  him  to  show  you." 

"  Hallo,  Boggs !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Whoppers,  rising  from  his 
seat  and  beckoning  to  that  gentleman,  who  happened  at  the 
instant  to  enter  the  room  through  one  of  the  open  windows. 
"  Come  here  ;  Mrs.  Struggles  wants  you  to  show  her  the 
'California  hug.'  It's  a  shame  for  you  fashionable  fellows  to 
keep  all  that  kind  of  thing  to  yourselves.  Show  her  how  it's 
done,  d  la  grizzly,  and  don't  look  so  glum  about  it ;  one  would 
think  you  were  going  to  be  hugged  by  the  Scottish  maiden, 
rather  than  to  hug  an  elegant  and  accomplished  American 
matron." 

Luther  retired  to  his  room,  and  after  scribbling  a  note  to 
the  Captain,  and  one  to  be  by  him  delivered  to  Madame 


6 14  NEVER  AGAIN. 

Steignitz,  sat  by  his  open  window  for  hours  gazing  out  into 
the  starlit  night.  A  slight  glow  along  the  eastern  hills  startled 
him  from  his  profound  revery.  He  relighted  his  candle, 
seized  his  pen  and  wrote  rapidly,  then  paused  for  a  moment  • 
again  a  line  or  two,  and  again  a  hesitation  and  an  erasure,  and 
then  a  rapid  movement  of  the  pen. 

When  a  despairing  lover  takes  to  verse  it  may  be  consid 
ered  a  favorable  symptom  ;  the  crisis  is  passed,  and  unless 
some  imprudent  exposure  occasions  a  relapse,  the  patient  is 
generally  considered  to  have  a  fair  chance  for  life.  Luther, 
not  only  as  we  have  said,  but  as  we  have  given  the  reader  an 
opportunity  of  judging  for  himself,  had  something  of  a  knack 
at  rhyme.  Of  course  no  one  will  pretend,  least  of  all  himself, 
that  he  was  a  real  poet,  or  attempt  to  class  him  among  the 
thousand-and-one  great  masters  of  the  art  who  are  daily  witch 
ing  the  world  with  their  melodious  warblings.  But  this  may 
be  said,  that  although  he  was  as  far  as  anybody  from  ever 
writing  the  great  original  Choctaw  or  Comanche  epic  that  our 
cousins  on  the  other  side  have  been  vainly  demanding  from 
us  so  long,  there  was  probably  not  a  clerk  in  a  store  down 
town  who  could  more  rapidly  string  a  lot  of  trochees  and 
iambics  than  he  could. 

He  folded  up  his  paper,  and  going  into  the  hall  sought  the 
room  of  Mr.  Boggs,  who,  luckily  awake,  responded  at  once  to 
his  gentle  knock.  Luther  gave  him  the  note,  and  requested 
that  he  would  hand  it  to  Miss  Helen  Ledgeral  in  the  morn 
ing. 

"Just  a  few  lines  of  verse,"  continued  Luther  ;  "  nothing 
wrong,  I  assure  you.  You  can  look  at  them,  the  envelope  is 
not  sealed ;  but  I  don't  want  any  one  else  to  see  it,  so  if  you 
will  please  hand  it  to  her  when  she  is  alone — you  understand, 
eh  ? — well,  I  shall  be  so  much  obliged  to  you." 

Mr.  Boggs  was  really  a  good-natured  fellow,  and  he  got  up 
an  hour  earlier  than  usual  in  order  to  see  Helen,  whose  ma 
tutinal  habits  he  knew. 

He  found  her  in  the  little  rustic  summer-house,  on  the 
edge  of  the  precipice  overhanging  the  river.  She  was  leaning 


NEVER  AGAIN.  615 

upon  the  rough  rail  and  gazing  across  the  water  at  the  whizzing 
up-train  that  was  rapidly  nearing  the  station.  She  would  have 
made  a  pretty  picture  of  Sappho — 

"  High  o'er  the  surge  on  craggy,  rough  Leucate." 

But  there  was  this  difference  :  Helen  had  no  more  idea  of 
throwing  herself  over  the  cliff  than  Sappho  had  of  Phaon's 
riding  away  from  her  in  a  railway  train. 

Mr.  Boggs  handed  her  the  note,  and,  with  gentlemanly 
delicacy,  turned  off  for  a  morning  stroll. 

It  was  so  early  that,  with  the  exception  of  nurses  and 
children,  Helen  knew  that  she  would  have  the  summer-house 
to  herself  for  an  hour.  She  opened  the  note  and  read  and 
re-read  and  mused,  with  now  and  then  a  sigh,  and — shall  we 
say  it  ?  ah,  silly  girl,  with  the  bright  fresh  morning  floating  in 
floods  of  mellow  coolness  all  about  you — with  now  and  then 
a  tear.  But  upon  the  whole  the  poetry  did  her  good;  she  felt 
better  for  it.  Why  and  how  we  might  explain  ;  but  perhaps 
it  will  be  better  to  give  the  verses,  and  let  the  reader  judge 
for  him  or  herself: 

"  Oh,  Spirit  of  Night  ! 

Of  loving  Mother  Night  ! 

I  see  thee  now,  in  robes  of  gray  and  dusky  light, 
Stealing  across  the  slopes  of  yonder  hills  ; 
Now  hiding  in  clefts  where  bide  the  silver  rills  ; 
And  now,  with  star-specked  garments  all  aglow, 
Trailing,  with  undulating  step  and  slow, 
Thy  shimmering  train  along  the  sleepy  river. 

Oh,  Spirit  of  Night ! 
Come,  come  to  me,  for  I  am  sick  at  heart ; 

I  burn,  I  faint,  I  shiver. 
Oh,  come  to  me,  with  all  thy  nursing  art, 

And  bring  the  balm  thy  tenderness  distils 
For  life's  bewildering  ills. 

"  Oh,  Spirit  of  Night  ! 

Kindly  responsive  Night  ! 
Already  doth  thy  soft  depuring  light 

Mine  eyes  unfilm,  and,  gently  pressing  now, 
Thy  medic  touch  becalms  my  throbbing  brow, 


616  NEVER  AGAIN. 

And  scatters  ghastly  dreams  and  thoughts  of  death  ; 
And  waking  now,  beneath  the  stillness  of  thy  breath, 
To  a  new  sense  of  passion's  use  and  power — 

Oh,  Spirit  of  Night ! 
I  see  as  if  I  stood  above,  apart, 

Upon  some  lofty  tower, 

And  conned  the  lesson  with  an  opened  heart — 
'  Better,  than  joys  of  pale  and  pulseless  life, 
The  agony  of  Strife.' 

"  Oh,  Spirit  of  Night  ! 

Of  weird  and  wondrous  Night ! 
I  said,  in  blinded  and  revengeful  spite, 

That  I,  with  desperate  curse,  would  counter  Fate ; 
Learn,  against  Life,  to  steel  my  heart  with  hate  ; 
Learn  Hope  to  scorn  and  duty  deprecate  ; 
And  idly  float  on  lush  and  lusky  flow 
Of  sense — but  now,  ah !  now  I  know 
That  Love,  my  heart,  from  selfish  sin  should  sever, 
That  foiled  desire  should  urge  to  large  endeavor. 

Oh,  Spirit  of  Night  ! 
Nor  pride  nor  passion  can  withstand  thy  power ; 

And  now  and  ever, 

My  hapless  love,  thy  ebon  hours  shall  measure 
To  me  as  richest  treasure." 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

The  Captain  visits  Madame  Steignitz — French  and  American  Cooking — 
Madame  in  trouble  about  the  Count — To  bed,  but  not  to  sleep. 

"  AH,  Captain,  que  je  suis  Men  aise  de  vous  voir.  I  am 
L~\.  very  glad  to  see  you.  It  is  so  very  easy  to  forget  a  poor 
old  woman  that  I  began  to  think — well  I  began  to  think 
bad  things.  I  began  to  think,  oh,  the  poor  old  thing,  she 
has  got  no  beauty — she  has  got  no  money  ;  she  has  not  got 
anything  to  please  anybody,  and  yet  we  have  done  so  much 
for  her — we  have  saved  her  life — we  work  hard — we  risk 
much  to  get  her  from  the  bandits — now  that  is  enough — 
let  her  go — let  her  slide,  poor  old  thing.  Very  naughty 
thoughts,  Captain,  eh  ? " 

"  Wicked  madame,  downright  wicked,  and  very  unjust 
to  Luther  as  well  as  to  myself.  The  fact  is,  during  the  day 
I  have  been  every  moment  occupied  with  the  business  of 
the  ship — our  ship  I  should  say,  for  you  have  a  good  interest 
in  her,  and  then  in  the  evening  it  has  so  happened  that  I  have 
not  had  an  hour  to  spare  for  anything." 

The  Captain  did  not  go  on  to  explain  the  nature  of  the 
business  that  occupied  his  evenings.  He  did  not  mention 
the  fact  that  he  had  been  compelled  to  take  Miss  De  Belvoir 
Jones  to  Wallack's  one  night,  and  as  he  had  done  that,  it 
was  only  fair  that  he  should  take  her  to  Booth's  the  next, 
and,  as  tragedy  is  so  trying,  both  the  Captain  and  Miss 
Jones  thought  it  would  be  right  to  restore  the  balance 
of  feeling  by  a  little  opera-bouffe.  Oh  yes,  the  Captain  had 
been  fully  occupied — wickedly  occupied,  if  we  may  believe 
some  of  Miss  Jones'  boarders. 


6i3  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"  I  think  it  is  wrong,  downright  sinful,"  exclaimed  Miss 
Stingel ;  "  don't  you,  Mrs.  Billings  ? " 

"Wrong!  it's  horrid,  it's  shameful,  to  be  going  about 
alone  with  a  man  in  that  way,  and  she  a  young  single 
woman." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  about  age,  she's  old  enough  to  go 
anywhere ;  but  she's  an  unmarried  woman,  not  that  I  think 
a  married  woman  has  any  more  right  to  go  around  with  other 
men  than  a  single  woman  ;  and  as  a  general  thing  I  don't 
see  any  harm  in  it,  done  properly  ;  but  the  way  she  goes 
about  with  the  Captain,  or  rather  makes  him  go  about  with 
her,  I  think  is  wicked  ;  not  that  I  would  go  so  far  as  to  say 
that  there  is  anything  improper  between  them,  but  it  is 
shameful  and  it  does  not  look  well.  They  could  not  do  more 
if  they  were  engaged." 

"  Perhaps  they  are  engaged." 

"  Pshaw !  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  It  would  be  too 
ridiculous.  She'd  jump  at  almost  anything  in  broadcloth,  I 
know  ;  but  I  will  say  this  for  her,  that  I  don't  believe  she'd 
take  such  an  old,  red-faced  fellow.  And  as  for  him — well,  I 
don't  believe  he'd  marry  such  an  ugly,  spuddy  lump  of  a  wo 
man  no  more  than  he'd  fly,  and  if  he  does,  he's  the  biggest 
donkey  I  know." 

Miss  Stingel  paused  for  a  moment,  thinking  of  the  lovely 
time  when,  staying  at  her  aunt's  over  at  the  Wallabout,  she 
had  once  had  with  a  young  lieutenant  in  the  navy.  But,  alas  ! 
one  day,  the  marine  villain  took  his  shoulder-straps  to  sea 
and  "  didn't  say  nothing." 

"  Yes,  a  big  donkey  he  would  be,"  repeated  Miss  Stingel. 
"  However,  I  believe  all  sailors  au:  fools." 

Tin.:  Captain  heard  nothing,  and,  in  fact,  never  dreamed 
of  all  the  comment  his  actions  evoked.  Miss  Jones  not  only 
heard  somewhat  of  it,  but  was  able  to  guess  the  rest  from  her 
profound  knowledge  of  the  workings  of  the  female  heart  under 
the  influence  of  boarding-house  life.  But  she  didn't  care  for 
it — she  scorned  it ;  she  was  above  all  such  scandalous  talk. 
Her  only  anxiety  was  to  keep  her  poor,  innocent  monster's 


NE  VER  A  GAIN.  6 19 

feelings  from  being  lacerated.  And  so  the  Captain  walked 
the  primrose  paths  of  dalliance  without  winking,  and  with  nc 
idea  that  he  was  doing  anything  so  horrid. 

Still  he  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  tell  Madame  Steig- 
nitz  what  pressing  business  had  prevented  his  seeing  her 
sooner  in  the  evening. 

"  I  am  downright  glad  to  find  you,  madame,  looking  so 
well,"  he  said  ;  "  a  week  has  done  wonders  for  you." 

"  Ah,  I  am  not  well,"  replied  madame.  "  I  am  not  sick. 
Mats,  je  suis  encore  souffrante — what  you  call  suffering — and  I 
shall  be  always  suffering,  I  think.  Those  villains  did  not  quite 
kill  me,  but  I  shall  never  be  well  again.  I  am  a  feeble  old 
woman  ;  but  what  matters  it  for  one  so  poor?  No  money, 
eh  ?  Monsieur  le  Captain.  Who  cares  when  I  go  ?  let  the 
end  come.  Pouf ! — et  voila  la  chandelle  etcinte.  It  will  not 
cost  much,  eh  ?  An  old  pine  coffin — and  I  shall  leave  a  few 
dollars,  enough  to  pay  for  putting  it  in  the  pauper's  ground." 

"  Look  here,  madame  !  "  exclaimed  the  Captain,  grasping 
her  hand  rather  roughly,  "  I  don't  like  to  hear  you  talk  that 
way.  You  do  injustice  to  me,  and  I  know  you  do  injustice  to 
Luther.  Luther  really  loves  you.  I  know  he  does.  I  have 
heard  him  say  so  a  hundred  times ;  and  I  don't  think,  after 
what  he  has  gone  through  for  two  or  three  weeks  past,  that 
you  have  any  right  to  doubt  him.  He  writes  to  me  to  look 
after  his  dear  old  m&re  Fran$aise  until  he  can  get  back  to  take 
care  of  her  himself;  and  do  you  suppose  that  1  can  ever  for 
get  to  whom  I  owe  it  that  I  now  command  the  finest  ship  out 
of  New  York  ? " 

"  Ah,  pardon,  Captain,  I  am  wrong  ;  but  I  have  been 
alone  here  for  two  or  three  days — I  am  not  afraid — there  is 
no  more  danger  from  the  brigands,  since  they  are  all  in  jail, 
but  I  am  a  little  triste — I  knew  Luther  was  out  of  town,  but 
I  did  think  to  see  you.  But  no — no  excuse.  I  know  New 
York  is  very  big,  and  life  is  very  hard  in  it— what  you  call 
hurry-skurry.  Ah  !  that  is  a  good  word,  hurry-skurry.  It 
makes  me  think  of  the  squirrel.  He  come  out  of  the  ground, 
he  look  about,  he  hurry  here  he  skurry  there — he  dash  up  this 


620  NEVER  AGAIN. 

tree,  he  run  down  that,  and,  whiff!  he  go  in  the  ground  and 
you  don't  see  him  again.  That  is  just  life  in  New  York.  But 
we  forget  the  news,  which  you  shall  have  to  tell  me.  Where 
is  mon petit?  How  is  the  little  one  ?" 

"  He  is  well,"  answered  the  Captain  ;  "  but  where  he  is 
exactly  at  this  moment  I  cannot  tell  you.  I  have  a  letter 
from  him,  dated  West  Point,  saying  that  he  was  going  to  leave 
for  the  north  with  Mr.  Whoppers,  and  that  he  didn't  know, 
and  didn't  care,  how  long  he  might  be  gone." 

"  Did  not  care!  What  would  he  to  say  by  that?  I  have 
suspect  something  myself,  but  it  was  not  for  me  to  question 
him  too  much.  Tell  me  all  about  it.  What  you  know, 
eh?" 

"  I  don't  know,  but  I  guess  he  has  been  a  little  upset  in 
this  region,"  and  the  Captain  tapped  his  heart  significantly. 
"  But  here  is  a  letter  that  he  sent  to  me  for  you." 

Madame  Steignitz  took  the  note,  and,  adjusting  her  specta 
cles,  read  it  over  two  or  three  times,  and  then  sat  for  some 
time  musing,  occasionally  taking  a  huge  pinch  of  snuff,  and 
then  tapping  the  table  with  the  fingers  of  her  still  handsome 
hand. 

"  You  read  French  ?  No  !  Well,  he  tells  me  nothing. 
He  says  that  he  is  well  in  body  but  not  in  the  best  of  spirits, 
and  thinks  a  voyage  will  do  him  good.  What  makes  him  in 
bad  spirits  ?  You  shall  tell  me  all." 

And  the  Captain,  under  her  adroit  questioning,  did  tell  all 
that  he  knew,  and  much  more  that  he  supposed. 

"  Ledgeral !  Ledgeral !  "  exclaimed  the  old  woman,  inter 
rupting  the  Captain.  "  Every  time  I  hear  that  name  I  think 
there  is  something.  I  recollect  a  name  like  that  so  well.  Can 
it  be  the  same  ?  Yes,  yes.  Let  me  see.  Ah  !  que  je  suis  btte  ! 
What  you  call  stupid  like  an  owl,  not  to  think  so  before.  Yes, 
yes — it  may  be — I  think  it  is." 

"  Is  what  ?  "  demanded  the  Captain. 

"  Oh,  something  long  time  ago.  Yes,  yes  ;  I  think  it  must 
be,"  and  Madame  nodded  her  head  repeatedly  and  tapped  the 
table  vigorously. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  621 

"  Tell  me.  I  wish  to  know  of  this  great  merchant.  I 
never  thought  to  talk  with  my  little  one  about  him.  You 
have  seen  him,  eh  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  I  have  seen  him  several  times." 

"  What  age  is  he,  eh  ? " 

"  I  should  say  about  fifty,  or  fifty-two  or  three." 

"  Fifty  years,  ha  !  Well,  well,  that  is  just  the  age.  Tall, 
handsome  man — long  nose,  black  eyes,  curly  hair — eh  ?  " 

"  Well,"  replied  the  Captain,  "  I  never  noticed  him  par 
ticularly,  but  I  should  think  that  was  about  his  photograph." 

"  Ha,  ha !  I  think  I  know  him  ;  and  you  say  he  has  a 
daughter.  Come,  tell  me  of  this  daughter.  I  have  suspect 
much  for  long  time.  I  am  a  poor  old  woman,  with  no  money, 
but  I  have  the  sharp  eyes  ;  I  can  see,  and  I  have  much  sus 
pected.  I  am  no  fool,  eh  ? " 

Something  in  Madame's  expression  made  the  Captain  think 
that  perhaps  she  knew  more  about  the  whole  matter  than  he 
did,  and  he  said  as  much  ;  but  she  emphatically  denied  any 
and  all  knowledge  beyond  the  mere  fact  that  Mr.  Ledgeral 
had  a  daughter,  and  that  she  had  long  suspected  that  Luther 
was  in  love  with  some  one. 

"  Tell  that  to  the  marines,"  was  the  Captain's  mental  com 
ment.  "  You  are  too  sharp  and  shrewd,  and  too  much  inter 
ested  in  Luther,  not  to  have  done  your  best  to  poke  and 
pry  to  the  bottom  of  the  matter."  He,  however,  said  noth 
ing  aloud  in  reply. 

"  This  daughter — is  she  beautiful,  eh  ? "  demanded  Ma 
dame. 

"  I  have  never  seen  her  but  once,  and  then  at  a  distance," 
replied  the  Captain  ;  "  but  it  struck  me  that  she  was  about  as 
neat  a  model  as  I  have  ever  seen — nice  head-lines,  and  a  neat, 
clean  run,  and  she  appeared  to  be  better  ballasted  than  usual 
— not  quite  so  much  down  by  the  head.  Mr.  Whoppers  says 
that  she  is  the  most  splendid  girl  in  the  town,  but  he  is  sorry 
that  Luther  ever  laid  eyes  on  her." 

"  What  for  he  say  that  ?  Does  she  not  love  him  ?  What 
girl  could  look  at  him  and  not  love  him  ?  There  is  no  such 
fool  in  the  world." 


622  NEVER   AC. -I IX. 

"  Well,  I  believe  she  has  a  kind  of  a  notion  for  him,  but 
the  youth  has  no  fortune.  I  don't  exactly  see  the  force  of  that 
myself,  but  Mr.  Whoppers  says  that  in  society  it  is  every 
thing." 

"  No  fortune  !  Bah  !  Is  any  girl  too  good,  too  rich  for 
him?  Un  ganjon  beau,  bra  ve — un  prince,  cotnweya.  Bah!  No 
money,  eh  ?  Who  knows  that  ?  Who  knows  how  much 
money  he  has  ?  Bah  !  A  young  man  like  that  has  the  whole 
world  in  his  pocket.  I  tell  you  what,  Monsieur  le  Captain, 
the  great  man  had  not  so  much  good  prospects  before  him 
when  he  was  twenty-three,  as  mon  petit.  I  shall  say  to  him, 
You  will  sell  your  daughter  ?  My  little  one  will  buy  her. 
How  much  you  ask  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  but  she  is  going  to  be  married,  they  say." 

"  Ah  voild  quelque  chose  de  mauvais — that  alters  the  case — 
that  is  bad  ;  and  she  such  a  girl — une  demoiselle  parfaitement 
comme  il  faut,  si  gentille,  si  douce — what  you  call  sweet — so 
nice,  so  handsome,  so  lady-like." 

'•  Then  you  have  seen  her?"  demanded  the  Captain. 

"  Well,  well !  suppose  I  have.  I  thought  one  day  I  would 
go  to  see  if  she  would  give  something  for  a  poor  French  family. 
She  came  down  to  me  in  the  hall,  and  the  first  thing  I  hear, 
she  say,  '  Joseph,  why  did  you  not  show  the  lady  into  the  par 
lor  ?  Walk  in,  madam,  and  take  a  chair.'  '  Oh,  oh,'  said  I, 
'  you  have  the  penetration,  and,  more,  you  have  the  heart  of  a 
lady  ;  and  still  more — because  you  find  it  nowhere  now, — you 
have  the  something — thejenesats  quoi — which  will  grow,  in 
time,  into  the  best  manner  of  the  gran  de  dame'  And  then  I 
tell  my  story  of  a  poor  French  family — a  veritable  story,  and 
the  tears  came  in  her  eyes,  and  she  gave  me  all  the  money 
she  had — ten  dollars,  and  then  we  talk  a  long  time  about 
France  and  Germany,  and  all  the  places  where  I  have  lived  ; 
and  she  made  me  promise  to  come  again  and  tell  her  all  about 
the  poor  people.  But  then  I  was  carried  off  by  these  maudit 
brigands.  And  now,  you  say,  that  she  is  going  to  be  married. 
Oh,  mon  petit,  mon  chcr  Luthere!  I  can  understand  it  now 
why  you  are  in  bad  spirits,  and  I  can  do  nothing  !  Oh,  mon 


NEVER   AGAIN.  623 

Dieu!  'tis  always  so.  Everybody  1  love  suffer!  Yes,  every 
body,"  she  repeated,  her  voice  rising  almost  into  a  scream  of 
mingled  rage  and  grief.  "  Yes,  everybody.  I  make  them  all 
to  suffer.  They  lose  fortune ;  they  have  horrible  maladies  ; 
they  are  crushed  by  the  railroad  ;  they  drown  in  the  steam 
boat — they  die  !  Yes,  yes,  I  kill  them  all !  My  breath  is 
poison — my  touch  is  death  ! 

"  Captain,"  she  continued,  starting  forward,  and  thumping 
the  table  .violently  with  her  clenched  hand,  "Captain,  don't 
go  to  sea  again  in  that  cursed  ship — you  will  go  down  to  your 
grave.  I  see  it ;  I  know  it.  She  comes  to  you  through  me, 
and  she  will  sink  you  to  the  bottom." 

"  Oh,  never  fear,  madam  ;  she  is  stout  and  well  found. 
A  fellow  must  take  his  chance,  you  know;  and  no  chap  will 
have  time  to  cast  up  his  reckoning  rightly  if  he  is  all  the  time 
bothering  about  starting  a  butt.  She's  a  good,  sound  ship, 
and  if  she  does  run  under  it  won't  be  your  fault." 

"  Well,  well,"  replied  Madame,  in  a  calmer  tone,  "  tell  me 
v.'ho  he  is  ?  Who  is  the  fellow  who  is  going  to  rob  my  poor 
Luthare  ? " 

"  A  young  German  Count,  who  has  been  drifting  about  here 
for  two  or  three  months." 

"  A  German  Count!     Remember  you  his  name?" 
"Yes;  it  is    Isen    something — let   me   see  —  Isenthal — 
Count  Isenthal." 

The  Captain  drew  back  in  his  chair,  and  nothing  but  the 
wall  saved  him  from  lilting  over  entirely,  as  Madame  Steignitz 
sprang  from  her  seat  and  suddenly  placed  both  hands  on  his 
shoulders  and  peered  into  his  face  with  eyes  that  seemed  to 
pierce  right  through  him. 

"  Qitoi!  What !  What  do  you  say?  No,  no,  it  cannot 
be  !  Count  Isenthal  ?  Oh,  mon  Dieu  !  what  do  I  think.  Oh  / 
oh  •/  quelle  horreur  !  " 

And  Madame  Steignitz  sank  back  into  her  seat,  and  clasped 
her  head  with  her  hands,  and  rocked  herself  back  and  forth, 
muttering  to  herself  in  French,  for  several  minutes,  while  the 
Captain  sat  looking  on,  unable  to  say  a  word.  As  he  said 


624  NEVER   AGAIN. 

afterwards,  he  was  taken  flat  aback,  and  didn't  know  what 
tack  to  pay  off  on. 

"  Pardon,  Monsieur  le  Captain,"  exclaimed  Madame  Steig- 
nitz,  suddenly  resuming  her  usual  tone.  "  I  quite  forgot  my 
self.  You  think  I  am  a  very  strange  old  woman  ;  but  I  am 
nothing  wrong  here,"  tapping  her  forehead.  "  I  have  seen 
some  things  that  I  should  be  mad  for,  but  I  was  not  mad.  I 
did  not  go  mad,  and  I  could  not  die.  Oh  !  when  they  brought 
him  to  me  all  cut  with  the  dreadful  bowie,  and  he  died  in  my 
arms  ;  and  when  they  buried  my  little  one  in  the  mud  of  that 
cursed  Mississippi,  I  did  not  go  mad,  and  I  could  not  die ! 
And  now  these  maudit  brigands  they  almost  kill  me,  but  I  do 
not  go  mad.  And  now  comes  this  thing.  Ah  !  ah  !  I  must 
think  much  about  it." 

"  Well,  madam,  I  won't  disturb  your  thinking,  so  I  will 
bid  you  good-night,"  exclaimed  the  Captain,  rising.  "  There 
is  nothing  that  I  can  do  for  you,  is  there  ?  You  have  the 
nurse  below,  have  you  not  ?  " 

"  Bah  !  I  sent  her  away  yesterday.  She  said  that  Luthare 
promised  to  pay  her  double.  I  tell  her  that  he  shall  not  pay 
her  one  cent,  because  she  is  such  a  cheat.  Oh,  she  would 
ruin  me  in  one  week.  What  do  you  think  ?  she  would  cook  a 
piece  of  beef  gros  comme  pa,  for  us  two.  O/t,  mon  Dieu  !  they 
talk  about  the  cost  of  the  living  in  this  country  !  'Tis  the  ig 
norance  and  the  carelessness.  Oh,  the  waste  of  the  kitchen 
in  this  city  would  make  to  live  thousands  of  French  families. 
They  know  nothing  about  the  little  dishes.  It  is  all  roast 
beef,  mutton-chops,  beefsteak ;  or  beefsteak,  mutton-chops, 
roast  beef.  And  then  they  must  have  the  grand  roast  turkey, 
and  the  chicken,  for  a  little  family  of  two  or  three  people. 
Tenez!  Je  vats  vous  faire  voir  quelque  chose.  I  show  you 
something." 

And  Madame  put  her  hand  on  the  Captain's  arm  to  detain 
liim,  and  then  rushed  off  to  the  old  sideboard  and  pulled  out 
the  leg  of  a  chicken  which  she  held  up  triumphantly.  "  Re- 
gardez  done!  You  see  this  ?  it  is  what  you  call  the  drumstick. 
It  is  an  insult  to  your  servants  to  make  them  eat  it.  Well,  I 


NEVER  AGAIN.  625 

take  it,  I  take  out  the  bone,  I  press  it  out,  I  make  some 
Jarcie — what  you  call  force-meat,  avec  un  morceau  de  truffe, 
if  you  have  some,  but  if  not,  a  little  piece  of  onion,  and  I 
stuff  it  well  out,  round  as  an  apple,  and  when  it  is  cooked, 
what  have  I  got  for  a  few  sous? — un  ballotin  de  volatile — 
a  dish  for  a  king  !  un  plat  le plus  recherche  qifon  puisse  trouver 
dans  le  cafe  Anglais.  But  I  beg  pardon,  I  speak  so  much 
French,  but  it  is  the  language  for  the  kitchen." 

Madame  Steignitz  jerked  open  her  sideboard  door  and  threw 
her  drumstick  in,  without  heeding  whether  it  went  fairly  into 
the  plate  standing  on  the  shelf,  or  whether  it  fell  on  to  a  con 
fused  pile  of  potatoes,  onions  and  dried  apples. 

"  Oh,  I  understand  very  well,  Madame ;  I  know  you 
French  have  the  art  of  making  good  things." 

"  But  it  is  not  the  good  I  talk  of  only ;  it  is  the  cheap. 
Take  the  mutton-chop, — I  do  not  mean  the  cotelette  panee,  the 
cotelctte  en  papilotte,  or  more,  the  cotelette  a  la  provencal ;  that 
costs  in  the  time  and  the  money,  and  is  not  for  poor  people 
who  have  just  got  a  few  cents  to  keep  themselves  from  starve, 
like  myself, — but  take  the  American  mutton-chop,  coarse, 
tough  and  very  badly  cooked ;  you  eat  about  half  the  meat 
and  throw  the  bones  away.  Maintenant  ecoutez  un  moment, 
I  take  the  bones,  I  put  them  in  a  mortar,  I  pound  them  up 
fine,  I  add  a  little  Champignon,  a  little  truffe.  and  some  onion, 
or  a  petite  goussecfail,  what  you  call  garlic,  one  or  all ;  a  little 
piece  of  boiled  chicken-liver,  a  little  hard-boiled  egg  chopped 
fine,  with  a  sprig  of  parsley,  a  soupcon  of  Worcestershire  sauce, 
and  then,  with  a  few  drops  of  o\\,faire  sauter  for  a  moment  and 
then  empty  the  casserole  upon  a  piece  of  buttered  toast.  Oh 
mon  Dieu  !  but  it  is  dclicieux.  You  have  saved  your  bones, 
and  it  does  not  only  for  to-day,  but  I  assure  you  you  can  live 
three  days  on  the  memory." 

"I  am  afraid,"  replied  the  Captain,  laughing,  "that  my 
memory  would  be  hardly  strong  enough  for  that.  I  am  very 
apt  to  forget  the  last  meal  before  the  others  come  round.  But  I 
have  no  doubt  what  you  say  is  very  true.  I  believe  that  what 
with  overeating  and  the  waste  of  the  kitchen,  there  is  more  food 
36 


626  NEVER    AGAIN. 

thrown  away  in  this  country  than  all  the  world  beside.  The 
sailors  know  what  can  be  done  sometimes  with  a  little  econ 
omy  and  ingenuity.  We  have  it  knocked  into  us.  I  tell  you 
what,  with  nothing  on  board  but  salt-junk  and  weavely  biscuit, 
it  takes  no  slouch  at  the  stewpan  to  set  on  the  table  a  dozen 
dishes.  But  good-evening,  madam,  I  am  glad  I  have  found 
you  looKing  so  smart.  I  shall  write  to  Luther  that  you  are 
getting  along  as  well  as  could  be  expected." 

"  You  will  come  again  soon,  and  let  me  know  all  the 
news  ? " 

"Oh  yes,  madam." 

"  And  are  you  sure  that  his  name  is  Isenthal — Count  Isen 
thai  ? " 

"  Oh,  perfectly  sure.  I  have  heard  it  a  dozen  times,  and  I 
have  seen  it  in  the  newspapers  :  Count  Herman  von  Isen 
thal." 

"  Count  Herman  !  "  moaned  the  old  lady  after  the  Captain 
had  closed  the  door.  "  Yes,  that  would  certainly  be  the  name. 
The  grandfather  was  Count  Herman,"  and  her  thoughts  ran 
back  to  the  earlier  scenes  of  her  life  when  she  was  Annette, 
maitresse  des  robes — chief  dresser  and  surintendante  des  femmcs- 
de-chambre  at  Isenthal,  besides  being  reader,  confidante,  and, 
in  some  degree,  companion  to  the  Countess.  Oh,  those  were 
pleasant  days.  The  Count  was  a  very  gallant  and  polite  gen 
tleman,  if  people  did  say  that  he  had  been  such  a  wicked 
man  ;  and  then  Madame  was  so  good, — a  little  imperious,  a 
little  haughty,  but  she  did  not  show  that  to  those  in  her  ser 
vice,  she  kept  all  that  for  the  relatives  of  her  husband.  No 
wonder  there  was  such  a  bitter  feud  with  that  cousin,  and  then 
Madame  Steignitz  thought  on  all  the  incidents  of  that  journey 
to  Baden,  and  the  encounter  with  the  young  American,  and  the 
desperate  passion  that  her  mistress  had  -suddenly  conceived 
for  him — she  who  had  turned  a  cold  shoulder  to  so  many 
admirers.  Ah,  it  was  strange.  But  as  my  poor  husband  said 
sometimes,  '  the  crust  of  ice  may  cover  the  volcano.' 

"  And  then,"  continued  Madame  Steignitz,  still  muttering 
to  herself,  "  when  Steignitz  and  I  got  married,  and  the  Count 


NEVER  AGAIN.  627 

said  that  we  had  better  leave  the  castle  and  go  to  America, 
and  that  he  would  give  us  twenty  thousand  guilders,  I  was  so 
sorry  to  part  with  Madame ;  but  I  have  kept  my  word, — I 
have  never  made  one  inquiry  about  Isenthal  since,  only  when 
I  land  in  New  York  I  see  in  that  Vienna  journal  that  a  son 
had  been  born  to  the  Count  and  Countess  of  Isenthal.  Never 
one  word  more  ;  and  then  we  go  West. ;  then  comes  that  horri 
ble  life  at  St.  Louis,  and  then  the  old  life  at  Isenthal  go  out  of 
my  head,  until  now  it  come  back  so  strong — oh,  so  strong — 
I  would  I  knew  if  the  Countess  be  living  or  dead.  This  young 
man  must  be  her  son.  Oh,  if  she  knew  that  he  was  going  to 
marry  the  daughter  of  Monsieur  Ledgeral,  what  would  she  say  ? 
— what  would  she  say  ?  I  am  sure  she  would  say,  '  It  cannot 
be — it  must  not  be.'  I  must  act  for  her;  she  was  a  good 
friend  to  me.  I  must  do  something.  And  there  is  man  petit, 
he  shall  not  be  cheated  out  of  life.  Oh,  I  have  the  double 
reason  to  do  something  ;  but  what  shall  I  do  ?  Let  me  think. 
I  must  go  to  see  this  Monsieur  Ledgeral,  but  I  cannot  go  to 
see  him  for  two,  three  days — a  week,  perhaps." 

Madame  Steignitz  moved  as  rapidly  as  possible  two  or  three 
times  across  the  floor. 

"  No,  no,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  have  not  yet  the  strength. 
I  cannot  go  like  an  old  beggar  with  a  cane.  I  should  not 
get  in.  II  faut  attendre  jusqu'ci  ce  que  mes  jambs  soient  assez 
fortes.  I  must  wait  for  my  legs  to  get  strong  again.  But  I 
will  write  ;  yes,  I  will  write ;  and  if  what  I  think  is  true,  I 
will  put  a  name  to  my  note  that  will  make  him  jump  from  his 
?kin." 

The  old  woman  threw  herself  back  in  her  chair  and  mused 
for  some  time  in  silence.  Suddenly  starting  up,  she  began 
her  preparations  for  bed. 

"  I  am  'fraid  I  shall  not  sleep  much ;  no,  no.  I  cannot  stop 
to  think  what  to  do.  Some  money — two,  three  hundred  thou 
sand — would  have  prevented  this  a  few  months  ago,  may  be ; 
but  now  she  is  engaged  !  Ah,  ha  !  it  must  be  something  more 
than  the  money  now.  But  to  bed.  I  shall  not  sleep,  I  know  ; 
mats  la  nuit porte  conseil,  and  in  bed  one  need  not  be  at  the 


628  NEVER    AC  A IX. 

expense  of  a  candle,  just  to  think.  Oh,  the  candles  in  this 
country  cost  much  money,  and  I  am  afraid  of  that  miserable 
kerosene.  Tis  not  the  way  I  would  go  out  of  the  world — 
blown  up  by  an  inexplodable  fluid !" 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

Whoppers  and  Luther  on  their  travels — Sad  News — Stichen's  Death — 
Its  effect  on  the  Market. 

LUTHER  and  Mr.  Whoppers  sauntered  into  the  reading- 
room  of  the  St.  Lawrence  Hotel,  at  Montreal,  at  which 
house  they  had  just  arrived,  after  a  pleasant  visit  to  the  White 
Mountains. 

"  What  splendid  weather  we  have  had,"  exclaimed  Luther. 
"  I  hope  it  will  last  us  until  we  get  through  with  the  Upper 
Lakes." 

"  Yes,  the  autumn  is  the  time  to  travel,"  replied  Mr.  Whop 
pers.  "  You  have  all  the  means  and  appliances  of  travel  left  over 
from  the  summer,  and  no  rushing,  struggling,  sweating  crowds, 
and  you  are  always  sure  of  fine  weather  in  this  country,  or,  in 
fact,  in  any  other.  I  have  been  about  the  world  some,  and  I 
have  yet  to  find  a  country  where  they  have  a  decent  spring  or 
an  unpleasant  autumn.  It's  the  English  poets  who  have  hum 
bugged  us  about  spring.  The  fact  is,  we  get  too  many  of  our 
notions  about  things  from  the  English  literature  we  gobble 
up  in  our  infancy.  All  that  stuff,  for  instance,  about  the  won 
derful  superiority  of  Italian  skies  and  sunsets  we  get  from  the 
English,  who  haven't  any  skies  or  sunsets.  What  does  an 
untravelled  Englishman  know  about  mountains  or  rivers  ? 
Why  he  doesn't  even  know  what  a  bad  road  is.  I  once 
asked  a  couple  of  English  pedestrians  whether  the  road 
through  the  Emmenthal,  which  they  had  just  passed,  was  a 
good  carriage  road.  '  Why,  sir,  you  can  get  through,  I  sup 
pose,'  was  the  answer  ;  '  but,  sir,  it's  a  horrid  road — perfectly 
horrid.'  Well,  I  turned  into  it,  and  found  a  bad  road,  but  a 
much  better  road  than  any  five  miles  of  road  we  have  outside 


630  NEVER  AGAIN. 

of  Central  Park.     No,  an  Englishman  don't  know  what  a  bad 
road  is." 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  it  is  a  species  of  ignorance  that  he 
has  any  great  reason  to  regret  ? "  demanded  Luther. 

"  Well,  I  can't  say  that  it  is.  It  is  one  of  those  cases  in 
which  ignorance  is  bliss,  I  suppose  ;  but  I  mentioned  it  merely 
to  show  how  cautious  we  ought  to  be  in  accepting  English 
opinions." 

"  That  is  to  say,  when  our  cousins  point  out  a  bad  road 
we  ought  to  dash  into  it." 

"  Yes,  the  chances  are  that  we  get  through  and  come  out 
somewhere — as  in  the  matter  of  protective  duties  now." 

"  Well,"  replied  Luther,  "  I  can  only  say  that  you  have 
mentioned  a  mighty  hard  road  to  travel." 

"  But  if  it's  a  short-cut  to  the  New  Jerusalem,  eh  ? " 

"  Is  it  ?     I  doubt,  and  had  rather  take  the  long  road." 

"  Oh,  here  come  the  New  York  papers,  at  last,"  exclaimed 
Mr.  Whoppers,  jumping  up  and  seizing  the  Herald.  "  Provi 
dential,  Luther  ;  we  were  just  beginning  to  talk  political  econ 
omy,  and  that  is  a  thing,  you  know,  that  no  fellow  can  find 
out." 

Both  gentlemen  secured  their  journals,  and  were  in  a  mo 
ment  immersed  in  columns  of  awful  accidents,  interesting 
murders,  audacious  highway  robberies,  municipal  swindlings 
and  judicial  rascalities, — international  flurries  and  stories  of 
battles  and  bloodshed. 

"  Is  the  world  really  growing  any  better  or  wiser  ? " 
groaned  Luther. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Whoppers.  "  No  doubt  of  it,  if 
you  make  allowance  for  two  facts  :  the  world  is  getting  more 
populous,  and  reporting  is  attaining  a  state  of  perfection. 
You  have  no  idea  how  much  this  perfection  contributes  to  the 
bad  look  of  things.  Formerly  the  scum  of  sin  floated  quietly 
by,  and  you  did  not  notice  it.  Now  the  reporters  stand  with 
their  rakes  and  drag-nets  and  collect  it  all,  and  heap  it  up 
right  under  our  noses.  Why,  no  doubt  the  time  will  come 
when  every  man  will  be  interviewed  before  breakfast,  and 


NEVER  AGAIN.  63J 

every  wicked  thought  he  has  had  during  the  night  and  every 
wicked  deed  he  intends  to  commit  during  the  day  will  be  in 
the  morning  journals." 

"That  will  be  nice,"  replied  Luther;  "a  fellow  will  be 
able  to  see  how  his  sins  look  in  print,  and  give  'em  the 
go-by  if  he  likes.  That  will  be  holding  a  '  mirror  up  to 
nature.'  What  an  aid  to  the  moral  sense  !  " 

"Yes,  a  typified  conscience — a  method  of  getting  an 
abstract  view  of  one's  own  particular  naughtinesses — an  in 
strument  enabling  us  to  obtain  an  objective  look  at  ourselves 
• — '  to  see  ourselves  as  others  see  us,' — ha  !  wouldn't  that  be 
grand  ? " 

Mr.  Whoppers  dropped  his  journal  and  rubbed  his  hands, 
and  his  whole  countenance  glowed  with  the  ecstatic  vision 
of  a  time  when  every  man's  most  private  thoughts  as  well  as 
deeds  should  appear  regularly  in  the  newspapers. 

"  It  will  come  !  It  will  come  ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  The 
world  moves.  When  I  was  a  youngster,  many  people  dreaded 
newspaper  notoriety.  To  be  put  in  the  newspapers  was  then 
a  fear,  now  it  is  a  hope.  Mere  notoriety  is  now  an  element 
of  power ;  and,  up  to  a  certain  limit,  entirely  independent 
of  the  moral  elements  of  the  case.  Conviction  and  punish 
ment  for  infamous  crime  does  certainly  injure  a  man's 
chances  for  high  social  or  political  position,  no  matter  how 
notorious  the  newspapers  may  have  made  him;  but  if  he  has 
not  actually  had  the  hot  iron  to  his  skin,  or,  in  other  words, 
if  he  has  not  really  served  at  Sing  Sing,  there  is  no  telling 
but  that  he  may  be  nominated,  if  not  elected,  to  serve  at  the 
Capitol.  What  is'  it,  youngster  ?  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

This  question  was  called  forth  by  an  exclamation  from 
Luther. 

In  reply  the  young  man  handed  the  journal  to  Mr.  Whop 
pers,  pointing  at  the  same  time  to  the  list  of  deaths. 

Mr.  Whoppers  ran  his  eye  down  the  column.  "  What ! 
Stichen;  died  suddenly  of  apoplexy,"  etc.,  etc.  "Alas,  poor 
Stichen  ! 

"  Luther,"  continued  Mr.  Whoppers,  leaning  forward  and 


632  NEVER  AGAIX. 

grasping  the  hand  of  the  young  man.  "  we  have  both  lost  a 
good  friend  ;  but  I  knew  him  longer  and  knew  him  better 
than  you,  and  it  cuts  me  down  quite  strangely.  There  is  not 
a  man  in  New  York  I  shall  miss  more.  He  was  a  little  man, 
but  he  had  a  big  heart ;  and  he  was  an  honest  man.  Yes, 
considering  that  he  was  a  stock-broker,  he  was  an  honest 
man." 

And  Mr.  Whoppers  shook  Luther's  hand  effusively,  and 
squeezed  it  as  if  to  squeeze  out  for  his  own  comfort  a  few 
drops  of  the  sympathy  with  which  Luther  was  filled. 

"  Yes,"  he  continued,  "  Stichen  was  an  honest  man — the 
noblest  work  of  God — and  such  a  good  friend.  I  shall  feel 
his  death  a  long  time,  it  touches  me  so  near ;  but  there  is  one 
comfort — I  can  write  his  obituary  for  the  Universe,  and  it  is 
a  pleasure  to  write  an  obituary  when  you  can  put  it  on  thick 
without  lying.  I'll  go  up  to  my  room  and  do  it  at  once,  so  as 
to  get  it  off  by  to-night's  mail.  You  can  occupy  yourself 
with  the  cathedral.  I've  seen  it  when  I  was  here  before. 
Ascend  the  tower ;  splendid  view ;  well  worth  an  aspiring 
mind.  You  won't  miss  me.  A  cathedral  is  a  thing  that  is 
more  easily  swallowed  alone.  This  one  won't  trouble  your 
digestion.  It's  large  enough,  but  there  are  no  memories  of 
a  thousand  years'  devotion  to  strain  your  mind  with.  It  is 
hardly  one  of  those 

'  Dark  places  in  times  far  aloof, 
Cathedrals  called/ 

such  as  Keats  talked  about,  but  it  will  do  for  an  uncultivated 
mental  stomach  like  yours." 

Yes,  Stichen  was  dead  !  A  great  and  shining  light  had 
suddenly  gone  out  in  Wall  street — one  of  the  seven-branched 
golden  candle-sticks  on  the  altar  of  Mammon  had  been 
toppled  over,  or  rather,  as  a  more  appropriate  figure,  one  of 
the  high-priests  serving  within  the  very  vail,  in  the  full  blaze 
of  the  golden  Shekinah,  had  fallen.  Not  even  his  million, 
which  he  had  rapidly  quadrupled  by  bold  and  successful 
speculation,  could  save  him. 

The  last  observation  is  a  truism,  and  smacks  of  the  pulpit, 


NEVER  AGAIN.  633 

but  let  us  think  for  a  moment  how  lucky  'tis  'tis  true.  Ah, 
if  wealth  could  secure  immunity  from  death,  if  it  could  stave 
off  a  judgment  in  Heaven  as  easily  as  it  does  a  judgment  in 
the  Supreme  Court  of  New  York,  how  it  would  intensify  the 
passionate  desire  of  fortune!  how  it  would  inflame  the  fury  of 

greed ! 

"  Go  back  six  thousand  years 

And  make  a  world  where  death  should  never  come, 
And  tell  me  what  a  hell  such  world  would  be." 

The  poet  supposes  the  whole  world  absolved  from  the 
rule  of  death,  but  a  much  more  curious  state  of  things  would 
arise  under  a  law  of  nature  limiting  death  to  people  who  are 
worth — say  under  half  a  million — a  law  absolutely  prohibiting 
Him  from  touching  a  man  who  had  made  his  full  pile. 

We  have  no  room  to  pursue  this  subject,  and  pause  only 
to  correct  one  mistake  that  impulsive  thinkers  may  fall  into. 
The  first  idea  that  springs  into  the  mind  is  the  injustice 
to  merely  well-to-do  people  involved  in  such  a  law.  Not  so  ; 
death  would  be  more  then  than  now  a  boon  to  persons  in 
moderate  circumstances — a  refuge,  a  resource,  a  something  to 
fall  back  upon  after  years  of  petty  dicker  or  halting  specula 
tion  ;  an  alternative  goal  which,  as  in  some  few  cases  of 
exalted  patriotism,  every  man  could  propose  to  himself,  shout 
ing  exultingly,  as  he  enters  the  arena  of  trade,  "  Give  me  for 
tune,  or  give  me  death  !  " 

Yes,  Stichen  was  dead  !  and  he  had  the  finest  funeral  that 
had  been  seen  in  a  long  time.  The  sententious  sexton  of 
Grace  Church  was  heard  to  say  that  it  was  a  pity  he  hadn't 
lasted  till  Lent.  Such  an  agreeable  funeral  would  have 
come  in  so  nicely  to  relieve  the  gloom  of  the  season  when 
balls  and  weddings  are  prohibited  by — by  fashion,  he  was 
going  to  say,  but  he  caught  himself  in  time  and  said — the 
Church. 

Stichen's  funeral  was  magnificent — so  magnificent  that  the 
idea  occurred  to  more  than  one  of  the  pall-bearers  (all  men 
of  mark — nothing  under  a  bank  president)  that  it  was  a  pity 
he  couldn't  come  to  just  for  a  few  minutes  to  enjoy  it. 


634  NEVER   AGAIN. 

It  was  particularly  magnificent  and  costly  in  the  matter  of 
flowers.  The  coffin  was  covered,  and  the  steps  of  the  chancel 
were  filled  with  crosses,  anchors,  hearts,  wreaths,  and  crowns, 
while  the  flowers  were  of  the  rarest  and  most  beautiful — quite 
equal  to  anything  at  the  Horticultural. 

Now,  flowers  at  the  funeral  of  a  child,  a  maiden,  or  a 
young  bride  is  undoubtedly  a  pretty  idea — "  quite  tasty  and 
genteel,"  as  our  friend  the  sexton  says  ;  but  isn't  such  a  pro 
fuse  floral  display,  especially  in  the  case  of  elderly  fogies, 
rather — without  intending  slang — rather  running  the  thing 
into  the  ground  ?  Doesn't  it  savor  a  little  of  ostentation  ? 
Doesn't  it  speak  of  a  strange  jumble  of  grief  and  vanity  on 
the  part  of  the  bereaved,  and  a  slight  mixture  of  toadyism  and 
loving  respect  on  the  part  of  sympathizing  friends  ?  Isn't  it 
a  little  hard  on  people  of  moderate  means,  who  wish  to  see 
their  dead  buried  out  of  their  sight  in  a  proper  style,  and  who 
have  neither  a  large  circle  of  rich  and  interested  friends  nor  a 
conservatory  of  their  own  ? 

We  ask  these  questions  with  all  deference,  because, 
although  we  are  for  reform  in  this  as  in  many  things,  we  have 
not  the  courage  of  our  convictions  ;  we  are  not  so  bold  as 
Uncle  Shippen.  He  cares  nothing  for  the  opinion  of  society. 
He  turns  up  his  nose  at  Fashion,  and  would  just  as  lief  as 
not  snap  his  fingers  in  the  face  of  Mrs.  Grundy.  Once 
mounted  on  one  of  his  reform  hobbies,  he  don't  mind  canter 
ing  right  over  or  through  the  most  sacred  fences  of  conven 
tionality.  He  says  that  this  custom  of  flowers  at  funerals  has 
got  to  be  a  downright  nuisance  ;  that  it  is  a  swindle  and  a  sham  ; 
that  it  has  been  gradually  eviscerated  of  all  true  feeling,  leav 
ing  nothing  but  a  sentiment  of  ostentatious  prodigality.  "I 
tell  you,  sir,"  says  the  old  gentleman,  warming  up  to  his  work, 
"it  is  getting  to  be  worse  than  wicked — it  is  getting  to  be 
ridiculous.  Rose-buds,  sir,  and  japonicas,  at  a  dollar  a  piece  ! 
Poor,  perishable  things — their  sentiment  as  flowers  utterly 
swallowed  up  by  the  feeling  of  their  costliness  as  merchandise  ! 
It  is  absurd,  sir.  Our  ancestors  of  the  stone  age  knew  better, 
and  did  better.  They  buried  the  dead  with  lots  of  flint 


NEVER  AGAIN.  635 

hatchets  and  spear-heads,  and  then  had  a  jolly  good  feast  at 
the  door  of  the  tomb.  There  was  something  sound  and  sol 
emn  in  their  customs  ;  but  now,  in  the  matter  of  death,  we  get 
down  upon  our  knees  and  grovel  before  the  infernal  joss  of 
fashion,  and  employ  the  sexton  and  the  undertaker  and  the 
florist  to  come  and  pick  our  pockets.  I  wouldn't  mind  it  if  we 
did  not  try  to  humbug  ourselves  into  the  belief  that  it  is  all  out 
of  respect  and  affection  for  the  dead.  If  people  would  just  come 
out  honestly  and  say,  for  instance,  '  Here,  now,  I  run  my  de 
funct  son  against  your  deceased  sister  :  match  to  come  off  at 
Grace  Church,  P.  P.,  within  the  year,  and  I'll  bet  I  have  more 
carved  rosewood,  more  silver  plate,  and  more  flowers,  and  a 
bigger  and  more  costly  funeral,  anyhow,'  I  think  it  would  be  a 
great  deal  more  honest,  and  not  exert  such  a  demoralizing 
influence  upon  poor  people  who  can't  afford  it,  and  yet  think 
they  must  indulge  in  all  this  extravagance ;  or,  in  other  words, 
the  superfluous  and  absurd  prodigalities  of  woe  would  not  be 
mistaken  for  its  necessary  and  fitting  decencies,  as  they  are 
now." 

We  have  sometimes  regretted  that  we  had  not  the  space 
and  that  it  was  not  consistent  with  the  course  of  our  story 
to  introduce  Uncle  Shippen  more  fully,  but  perhaps  it  is  best 
as  it  is.  He  is  so  well  known  about  town  that  it  would  be 
hardly  worth  while,  and  perhaps  the  reader,  either  from 
knowing  him  personally,  or  from  the  specimens  we  have 
given  of  the  wild  way  in  which  he  sometimes  rants,  may  be 
quite  content  that  he  has  not  been  brought  more  directly  into 
notice  as  one  of  the  dramatis  persona  of  our  simple  story. 

Yes,  Stichen  was  dead  !  It  couldn't  be  said  of  him,  as 
of  Lycidas — "  dead  ere  his  prime."  He  was  ripe,  and  what  is 
more,  he  was  ready.  Nevertheless,  the  shock  to  the  public 
was  very  great.  There  was  scarcely  a  breakfast-table  in  our 
society,  or  a  broker's  office  or  counting-room  down  town 
where  the  death  was  not  a  prominent  subject  of  conversation. 
The  Street  responded  to  it  at  once.  The  Lunasota  and 
Jiggermaree  Grand  Central  fell  two  per  cent,  and  Tuscarorah 
sixes  were  five-eighths  off  at  the  first  call. 


636  NEVER  AGAIN. 

And  is  that  all  ?  After  a  life  of  labor,  of  close,  almost 
sleepless,  personal  attention  to  business,  and  after  years  of 
feverish  excitement  in  the  Street — is  that  all  ?  It  is  a  pity  to 
be  compelled  to  say  that,  in  most  cases,  that  is  about  all. 
However,  an  enormous  pile  of  leavings  may  be  some  little 
satisfaction,  even  on  a  death-bed.  Let  us  see  if  a  slight 
analysis  will  not  expose  good  grounds  for  the  feeling.  The  idea 
of  leaving  one's  wife  and  children  well  provided  for,  as  the 
phrase  is,  is  a  very  consoling  one,  and  so  far  the  preacher  goes 
with  us.  But,  despite  the  preacher,  the  world  will  think,  or 
will  act  as  if  it  thought,  a  great  fortune — an  utterly  useless 
amount  of  superfluous  gold — a  great  good.  The  dying  mil- 
lionnaire,  with  his  eyes  turned  away  from  the  glories  of  the 
Street,  and  just  opening  to  a  clearer  vision  of  the  glories  of 
eternity,  may,  judging  from  his  personal  experience,  feel 
some  doubt  of  this  ;  but  the  universal  conviction  of  the 
world  is  against  him,  and  he  submits  to  authority.  He  dies 
in  the  hope  that  his  family  may  be  the  better  for  even  heaped- 
up  riches  ;  and  if  the  pile  is  large  enough  he  may  even  have 
hopes  that  some  of  it  may  dribble  down  to  descendants  in  the 
second,  perhaps  the  third  generation.  This  reflection  must 
be  a  comfort,  inasmuch  as  Mammon,  however  fiercely  he 
clutches  his  victim,  don't  always  squeeze  out  all  of  the  poor 
man's  affections.  The  grip  of  greed  on  heart  and  brain 
merely  prevents  those  little  daily  manifestations  that  secure 
affection  in  return.  The  unfortunate  money-maker  frequently 
cares  for  family  and  friends,  when  family  and  friends  don't 
care  for  him.  He  would  like  to  love  and  be  loved,  but  he 
hasn't  time  to  say  so  ;  and  when  he  comes  to  his  nunc  dhnittis, 
he  sings  the  canticle  with  an  unexpected  unction  born  of  the 
conviction  that,  though  he  has  spent  his  whole  strength  in 
the  pursuit  of  unnecessary  wealth,  yet  that  it  has  not 
been  wholly  for  himself  that  he  has  sacrificed  so  much  of  the 
best  part  of  his  nature. 

That,  we  say,  is  to  some  extent  sometimes  the  case.  In 
the  instance  of  Stichen  it  was  preeminently  so.  The  little 
man  had  worked  as  much  or  more  for  his  wife  than  himself. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  637 

True,  there  was  the  excitement  of  financial  operations — the 
mere  pleasure  of  rolling  up;  but  then  the  great  thing  was 
to  make  his  wife  a  fashionable  woman — to  put  her  in  the  best 
set.  He  did  not  care  about  becoming  a  fashionable  man 
himself;  he  knew  that  he  was  not  qualified  for  society  ;  but 
Mrs.  Stichen  was.  She  had  beauty,  talent,  education  and 
style.  All  she  needed  was  money  and  a  fair  chance.  True,  a 
great  many  women  with  money  had  failed ;  but  then  they 
were  not  equal  to  Mrs.  Stichen !  In  fact  no  woman  was 
equal  to  Mrs.  Stichen. 

And  this  opinion  was  found  running  all  through  the  pro 
visions  of  his  will,  which  stipulated  as  follows :  First  and 
foremost,  one  million  to  Mrs.  Stichen  outright ;  second,  a 
life  interest  in  one-half  of  the  remainder ;  then  various 
legacies,  a  few  donations  to  religious  and  charitable  so 
cieties,  and  then  a  very  curious  provision,  commencing : 
"  Whereas  my  friend  Mr.  Whoppers  thinks  that  too  large  a 
proportion  of  money  left  by  rich  men  is  given  to  ill-con 
sidered  religious  and  philanthropic  objects ;  and  whereas, 
when  any  money  is  devoted  to  other  ends,  it  always  goes 
into  pictures  or  books,  duplicating  and  reduplicating  third 
and  fourth  class  galleries  and  libraries  ;  and  whereas  noth 
ing  at  all  is  ever  given  to  pure  science,  and  whereas  Mr. 
Whoppers  says  that  upon  the  progress  of  science  depends 
the  development  of  humanity,  the  advance  of  civilization, 
and  the  spiritual,  moral,  and  physical  comfort  and  well  do 
ing  and  being  of  society :  Therefore,  I  give  and  bequeath 
the  remainder  of  my  estate,  which  I  estimate  at  a  million  and 
a  half  of  dollars,  be  the  same  more  or  less,  first  to  my 
clear  wife  and  to  my  good  friend  Mr.  Whoppers,  to  be  by 
them  held  in  trust,  until  such  times  as  the  legislature  shall 
incorporate  a  society  to  be  called  the  Medico  Biological 
Society  of  New  York  ;  when  the  said  money  or  moneys,  with 
all  interest,  increase  or  accumulations  whatever,  shall  be  by 
the  trustees  aforesaid,  viz.,  my  dear  wife  and  my  good  friend 
Whoppers,  given,  paid,  transferred,  assigned  and  made  over 
to  the  society  aforesaid,  to  be  by  said  society,  viz.,  the  Medico 


638  NEVER  AGAIN. 

Biological  Society  of  New  York,  held  in  trust  forever,  or 
as  much  longer  as  shall  be  thought  proper,  in  and  for,  and  the 
interest  thereof  annually  applied  to,  the  purposes,  objects,  and 
designs,  as  hereinafter  stated,  to  wit:  The  erection  of  a 
building  with  suitable  rooms  for  all  kinds  of  physiological 
and  pathological  research  ;  said  building  not  to  exceed  in 
actual  cost  of  erection  more  than  two  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  dollars ;  which  limitation  is  hereunto  affixed  and 
made  final  in  order  to  counteract  the  universal  tendency 
to  expend,  lay  out,  throw  away,  use  up  and  otherwise  be-devil 
any  and  all  moneys  whatsoever  left  for  any  purposes  con 
nected  with  building,  in  useless  and  absurd  architectural 
designs.  The  said  building  shall  also  contain  rooms  for  a 
chemical  laboratory  of  the  first  class ;  and  for  a  complete 
scientific  library  of  reference;  and  each  and  every  depart 
ment  shall  be  furnished  with  all  the  means,  appliances, 
books,  instruments,  machines,  and  apparatus,  of  and  for 
physiological,  pathological,  and  biological  research,  that  can 
be  got,  obtained,  bought,  begged  or  borrowed,  for  love  or 
money,  or  any  other  consideration  whatsoever. 

"  And  I  hereby  authorize  the  said  society  to  dispose  of 
the  income  of  the  remainder  of  the  fund  in  paying  the 
salaries  of  a  head  worker ;  at  least  four  workers  in  ordinary, 
and  any  number  of  workers  extraordinary,  in  no  wise  re 
stricting  the  said  society  as  to  the  amount  of  salary,  character 
and  quantity  of  work,  or  general  direction  of  research,  except  in 
the  manner  and  form  following,  and  in  the  items  herein  men 
tioned  to  wit :  No  worker  shall  be  required  to  do  any  public 
teaching,  and  he  shall  be  permitted  to  teach  or  lecture  in 
public  only  under  such  restrictions  as  the  society,  by  and  with 
the  advice  of  my  friend  Whoppers  and  my  dear  wife,  may  at 
first  establish  ;  secondly,  no  money  shall  be  received  from 
pupils,  but  any  young  man  of  a  scientific  turn,  or  old  man 
either,  who  wishes  to  pursue  any  line  of  research  or  experi 
ment  shall,  upon  furnishing  proofs  of  the  requisite  talent  and 
the  importance,  of  the  subject  he  wishes  to  investigate,  have, 
by  permission  of  the  proper  authorities  appointed  by  the  so- 


NEVER  AGAIN.  639 

ciety,  every  necessary  opportunity;  shall  have  the  use  of 
room  and  instruments,  be  aided  with  advice  and  assisted 
when  necessary  by  money ;  Thirdly,  inasmuch  as  it  would  be 
impossible  under  the  varying  circumstances  of  biological  re 
search  to  prescribe  the  amount  and  character  of  the  work 
to  be  done,  and  very  presumptuous  in  me  to  do  so  were  it 
possible,  I  will  only  indicate  a  point  or  two  in  relation  to 
said  work,  research,  investigation  and  experiment,  wherein 
this  my  last  will  and  testament  shall  be  considered  imper 
ative.  I  require,  then,  that  for  the  next  twenty-five  years,  each 
and  every  year,  there  shall  be  made  twenty  complete  and 
careful  chemical  analyses  of  every  secretion  and  excretion 
of  healthy  human  bodies,  with  microscopic  and  spectroscopic 
examinations  of  tissues  and  fluids,  and  I  require  an  equal 
number  of  full  and  complete  investigations  of  the  composition, 
character,  and  mechanical,  chemical,  electrical,  magnetical 
and  vitalical  changes  of  all  secretions  and  excretions  in 
a  state  of  disease.  1  require,  order,  and  command  this 
much,  not  with  the  design  of  interfering  with  the  regular 
scientific  conduct  of  the  Institution,  but  to  secure  a  certain 
attention  to  matters  which  the  practising  physician  has  no 
time  or  opportunity  or  ability  to  examine  thoroughly  ;  and 
because,  as  Mr.  Whoppers  assures  me,  according  to  the  doc 
trine  of  chances,  in  such  systematic  and  prescribed  routine 
work,  something  may  appear,  develop,  turn  up,  come  to 
light  and  show  itself.  And  whereas  nothing  is  known  of  the 
action  of  medicines  in  and  on  the  human  body  in  a  state 
of  health,  and  but  very  little  more  of  their  action  in  a  state  of 
disease,  and  the  whole  science  of  Therapeutics  is  very  much 
of  a  muddle,  founded  upon  imperfect  observations  and  dis 
puted  assumptions  ;  therefore  I  direct  a  certain  portion  of 
the  yearly  income  of  said  Medico  Biological  Society  to  be 
by  it  devoted  to  direct  experiment  upon  the  healthy  subject. 
That  is  to  say,  a  certain  number  of  men,  women  and  chil 
dren,  in  full  and  robust  health  and  strength,  shall  be  engaged, 
hired  or  employed  to  take,  at  regular  and  chosen  intervals, 
doses  of  divers  and  sundry  medicines  of  varying  weight, 


640  WEVER  AGAIN. 

volume  and  concentration,  and  otherwise  to  subject  themselves 
to  such  regimen,  and  submit  themselves  to  such  observations 
and  experiments,  as  may  be  judged  requisite  or  advisable, 
in  the  interests  of  science.  Always  provided,  that  nothing 
contained  in  this  provision  conflicts  with  the  rules  of  the 
Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals,  and  that 
its  worthy  President  does  not  decide  that  aiding,  abetting, 
assisting  or  permitting  a  well  man  to  take  castor  oil,  or  any 
other  noxious  allopathic  drug  three  times  a  week,  is  con 
trary  to  the  laws  of  the  land,  or  that  no  court  of  equity  shall 
decide  that,  inasmuch  as  so  many  sick  people  get  their 
death  by  swallowing  medicine,  it  would  be  contra  bonos  mores, 
and  therefore  unlawful,  under  the  common  law,  to  permit 
well  persons  to  get  their  living  by  doing  the  same  thing. 

"  And  I  especially  direct  that  the  charter  of  the  society 
aforenamed,  to  be  hereafter  incorporated,  shall  have — in  order 
to  enable  the  said  society  to  take  and  hold,  under  the 
provision  of  this,  my  last  will  and  testament — inserted  a  clause 
to  the  effect  that  if  ever  the  said  society  forgets  the  para 
mount  interests  of  science  ;  if  it  ever  degenerates  into  a  close 
corporation  of  scheming,  self-seeking  pretenders ;  if  ever  it 
becomes  a  refuge  for  second  and  third  rate  talents,  or  a  mere 
cover  under  which  a  lot  of  jealous,  squabbling,  mercenary 
Doctors  can  push  out  their  claims  for  professional  practice ; 
then  the  Governor  of  the  State  shall  have  the  power  to 
summarily  and  suddenly  dissolve,  extinguish,  abolish,  shut 
up  and  clear  out  said  society,  and  hand  over  all  money 
and  property  thereunto  appertaining  to  the  society  for  the 
conversion  of  the  Jews. 

"  And  whereas  the  moneys  hereby  devised  and  set  apart 
for  the  purposes  herein  specified  may  not  prove  sufficient, 
I  hereby  authorize  and  direct  my  dear  wife  to  terminate 
the  trust  held  for  her  at  any  moment  she  may  see  fit,  in  this 
wise,  by  directing  a  division  of  the  million  ;  one  half  to  the 
aforesaid  Medico  Biological  Society,  if  she  and  my  good 
friend  Whoppers  are  satisfied  with  the  working  and  manage 
ment  of  the  said  society,  and  the  other  half  to  the  construe- 


NEVER   AGAIN.  641 

tion  of  a  refracting  telescope  of  ten  feet  aperture,  and  two 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  focal  length — that  or  thereabouts — ac 
cording  to  the  designs  and  embracing  the  novelties  and  in 
ventions  of  Mr.  Planly,  and  under  the  direction  of  my  en 
thusiastic  and  scientific  young  friend,  Luther  Lansdale ; 
provided,  however,  that  if  my  dear  wife  does  not  approve  of 
the  work,  doings,  or  management  of  the  aforesaid  society,  she 
can,  in  consideration  that  my  good  friend  Whoppers  thinks  that 
the  South  Pole  has  been  neglected,  and  the  North  Pole 
rather  overdone,  either  employ  the  five  hundred  thousand 
dollars  in  fitting  out  an  Antarctic  expedition,  furnished  and 
supplied  for  general  work,  but  particularly  to  be  devoted  to 
ascertaining  the  possibility  of  connecting  the  two  poles  by 
a  series  of  copper  wires,  and  the  probable  effect  that  such  a 
connection  would  have ;  or,  in  lieu  of  such  expedition,  she 
can  devote  the  whole  million  to  the  construction  of  the 
telescope  aforesaid,  and  in  this  way  spend  the  money  with 
perhaps  less  harm  to  the  community  than  in  any  other  \v^.y, 
and  certainly  to  the  increase  of  knowledge,  the  advancement 
and  elevation  of  the  human  mind,  and  the  glory  of  God. 
Amen." 

Cannot  the  reader  see,  running  all  through  the  provisions 
of  this  will,  and  underlying  the  phraseology  of  this  last  portion, 
which  we  have  almost  literally  quoted,  as  any  one  can  see  for 
himself  by  going  to  the  Surrogate's  office,  the  profound 
respect  that  the  worthy  man  had  for  his  wife  ;  the  confidence 
that  he  had  in  her  judgment ;  the  admiration  that  he  had  for 
her  character,  as  well  as  her  person  ;  the  affection,  the  love  with 
which  she  had  inspired  him  ?  Few  women  ever  had  such  a 
compliment  from  a  dying  husband  as  being  intrusted  with  the 
fitting  out  of  an  Antarctic  exploring  expedition. 

And  she  deserved  it.  Mrs.  Stichen  was  an  honest,  true- 
hearted  woman,  a  faithful  and  affectionate  wife — and,  although 
she  had  become  a  very  fashionable  woman,  or,  as  Mrs.  Lasher 
phrased  it,  a  very  worldly  woman,  she  yet  took  the  death  of 
her  husband  very  much  to  heart. 

This  may  seem   strange  to  country  clergymen,  who  so  fre- 


642  NEVER  AGAIN. 

quently  indulge  in  discourses  upon  the  heartless  frivolity  of 
city  high  life — strange  to  the  female  novelist,  who  so  ruthlessly 
bares  the  corrupting  and  utterly  demoralizing  influence  of 
fashion — strange  to  the  provincial  mind  generally,  which  is 
more  or  less  infected  with  the  idea  that  all  great  cities,  and 
New  York  in  particular,  are  nothing  but  foci  of  vice  and 
crime  and  general  ungodliness.  But  the  statement  is  never 
theless  true,  and  it  almost  warrants  the  conclusion  at  which 
we  have  more  than  once  hinted,  that  almost  as  much  heart 
and  soul  and  feeling,  and  even  piety  and  charity  and  benev 
olence  can  be  found  among  the  upper  ten  thousand — aye, 
even  among  the  ultimate  five  hundred,  as  among  any  virtuous 
crowd  of  nobodies  of  the  same  size. 

Yes,  Mrs.  Stichen  was  a  widow — a  young  widow,  an 
immensely  rich  widow,  and  getting  quite  well  spread  in  fash 
ionable  life,  and  yet  no  dear  departed  ever  had  a  more  sincere 
mourner  than  poor  Stichen. 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

Opening  Oi   the   fall  Campaign — Mrs.  Ledgeral's  Invention — Joseph's 
Proposition — A  Startling  Note. 

THE  Ledgeral  party  has  returned  to  the  city.  In  fact 
everybody  has  returned  to  the  city,  and  for  three  or 
four  weeks  there  is  that  lull  in  social  activities  that  in  the  fall 
invariably  precedes  the  opening  of  the  social  campaign — an 
ominous  lull,  with  creeping  murmur  filling  the  wide  vessel  of 
the  universe. 

"  From  camp  to  camp 
The  hum  of  either  army  stilly  sounds, 
That  the  fixed  sentinels  almost  receive 
The  secret  whispers  of  each  other's  watch." 

From  all  sides  comes  the  dreadful  note  of  preparation. 
The  noise  of  busy  hammers  smashing  up  the  vast  packing- 
boxes  of  new  goods  makes  hideous  roar  in  Broadway.  The 
clicking  of  the  sewing-machine,  accomplishing  the  dames, 
pierces  the  night's  dull  ear,  and  needle  and  shears  better  than 
cocks  or  clocks  "  do  the  third  hour  of  morning  name." 

And  then — but  we  will  parody  Shakespeare  no  longer — 
then  such  a  getting  of  households  in  order ;  such  a  fitting  up 
and  furbishing ;  such  a  running  around  after  new  servants; 
such  a  chasing  of  Biddies  into  their  holes  in  tenement-houses  ; 
such  mysterious  audiences  with  cooks,  many  of  them  just 
landed  from  the  "  ould  counthry,"  with,  as  the  whole  of  their 
professional  knowledge,  the  maxim  that  "  a  pertatie  ought  to 
be  biled."  Such  unsatisfactory  researches  into  the  character 
of  waiters,  resulting  not  unfrequently  in  the  information  that 
if  the  fellow  can  be  persuaded  to  keep  sober  he  will  do  very 


644  NEVER  AGAIN. 

well ;  or  that,  if  you  don't  say  or  do  anything  to  irritate  him, 
and  don't  notice  any  little  eccentricities  of  manner,  you  may 
perhaps  get  along  with  him  ;  or  that  if  you  don't  put  too  much 
upon  him,  give  him  a  night-key  for  the  front  door,  with  his 
mornings  to  himself,  and  three  evenings  a  week  out  for  his 
club  and  the  theatre,  you  will  find  him  a  capital  servant. 

At  length  all  these  preliminaries  are  settled,  and  the  social 
forces  advance  to  the  attack.  A  few  small  dinner  and  theatre 
parties  occupy  the  skirmish  line  and  cover  the  approaches. 
Suddenly  Mrs.  Pushton,  on  the  left,  lets  fly  a  volley  of  cards 
for  the  first  regular  "  gabble-gobble."  It  is  instantly  answered 
by  Mrs.  Struggles  on  the  right,  with  a  German  in  the  evening 
thrown  in. 

Boom !  boom  !  What  is  that  ?  It  is  Mrs.  Montebello, 
who  has  opened  her  batteries,  charged  with  a  big  ball, 
right  in  the  centre  of  the  line.  Good  heavens,  how  it  rakes 
'em !  Toadies  and  flunkies  and  snobs  fall  in  countless 
crowds.  Notes  begging  for  invitations  for  left  out  friends 
darken  the  sky,  and  the  musical  voice  of  more  than  one  des 
perate  damsel  rises  on  the  air  in  shrieks  of  supplication  for 
an  invitation  for  herself. 

The  battle  has  fairly  begun.  Mrs.  Boutshard  and  Mrs. 
Vitalstein  are  wheeling  their  artillery  on  to  the  vantage- 
ground  of  Delmonico's,  whence,  with  their  heavy  mortars, 
they  can  bombard  the  universe  if  they  please,  and  a  very 
mortifying  thing  it  will  be  for  any  poor  people  left  beyond 
range.  Mrs.  Karzon  crosses  the  East  River  for  a  night  attack 
in  boats,  and  takes  her  friends  in  the  rear,  drives  the  vast 
crowd  before  her,  pens  them  up  in  the  gorge  of  Fourteenth 
Street,  and  before  morning  has  them  all  half  dead  with  admi 
ration  and  delight.  Bold  Mrs.  Robyn  Hood  and  Mrs.  Allen 
A.  Dale,  from  beneath  the  umbrage  of  the  dreadfully  thinned 
out  forest  of  the  Square,  shoot  out  their  pasteboard  shafts 
with  that  practised  aim  which  has  so  often  laid  low  the  gallant 
of  a  dozen  tynes.  And  now,  like  that  generous  knight  who  at 
the  lady's  cry 

"  Through  Sherwood's  glades  so  fresh  and  green 
Spurred  fiercely  to  the  desperate  scene." 


NEVER  AGAIN.  64^ 

a  nobly-mounted  dame  appears,  armed  cap-a-pie  with  the 
weapons  of  eld  as  well  as  with  an  intellectual  many-cham 
bered  revolver  of  the  latest  fashion,  and  joins  in  the  fray.  Mrs. 
Frank  garners  her  cohort  of  beautiful  damsels  and  rushes 
into  the  melee,  pouring  in  a  volley  of  splendid  dinners 
until  the  whole  air  of  society  is  betruffled  and  the  ground 
white  with  soup  a  la  reine.  While  Mrs.  Cutters,  and  Mrs. 
Smithers,  and  Mrs.  Stephens,  and  Mrs.  Jones,  and  Mrs. 
Robinson,  and  Mrs.  Livingston,  and  Mrs.  Stuyvesant,  and 
Mrs.  Van  Courtlandt,  and  a  host  of  others,  each  surrounded 
by  a  gallant  band  of  devoted  virgins,  make  overwhelming 
charges  clear  up  and  into  the  innermost  defences  of  the  Inef 
fable  Bosh. 

Ah,  why  have  we  not — why  have  we  never  had  any  writer, 
author,  poet,  or  novelist  competent  to  deal  with  this  subject ; 
to  depict  the  varying  phases  of  the  fashionable  battle-field  ;  to 
note  the  many  chances  and  changes  of  the  fight ;  to  describe 
the  feats  of  arms ;  to  record  the  names  of  the  chief  derring  doers, 
and  above  all  to  moralize  the  scene  from  a  high  philosophic 
point  of  view,  and,  while  holding  in  full  light  the  splendor 
of  achievement,  give  us  a  clear  glimpse  of  the  accompanying 
pain  and  misery,  the  mortifications,  the  snubbings,  the  wounded 
vanities,  the  heart-burnings,  the  jealousies,  the  meannesses,  the 
mendacities,  so  that  all  of  us  common  people  can  fairly 
judge  for  ourselves  whether  the  game  is  really  worth  the 
candle  ? 

Alas  !  our  society  must  wait  for  its  Thackerays,  and  Balzacs, 
and  La  Bruyeres.  It  must  wait  yet  awhile  for  the  true  artist 
who  can  touch  its  black  keys  here  and  there  without  unduly 
sharping  or  flatting  every  note  of  its  key-board.  It  must  wait 
for  the  deft  surgery  that  can  carve  the  cancers  and  probe  the 
sores  without  leaving  the  idea  that  the  whole  body  is  a  mass 
of  vulgar  corruption,  permeated  and  nourished  by  a  circulation 
of  unmitigated  foufouism.  It  must  wait  for  a  finer  analysis 
than  is  furnished  by  Slangwhanger's  essays,  an  observation 
nicer  and  truer  than  is  in  the  novels  of  Mrs.  Slaphem,  and  an 
induction  a  little  more  copious,  and  a  generalization  a  little 


646  NEVER  AGAIN. 

more  correct  than  is  commonly  found  among  those  of  our 
English  cousins  who  kindly  condescend  to  don  their  green 
goggles  and  mingle  with  our  best  society  in  hotels,  rail-cars 
and  steamboats. 

The  Ledgerals  had  been  back  two  or  three  weeks,  and  a 
busy  time  Mrs.  Ledgeral  had  had  of  it.  Shopping  alone  is 
terribly  exacting  work  for  very  rich  women  who  have  no  sense 
of  the  necessity  of  economy  to  guide  them  ;  who  are  turned 
loose  into  Stewart's,  Arnold  &  Constable's,  or  Lord  &  Tay 
lor's,  and  compelled  to  do  their  duty  without  any  regard  to 
price — now  buying  this,  now  buying  that,  at  the  suggestion 
of  the  slightest  whim  or  caprice,  and  now  being  talked  into 
something  perfectly  splendid,  with  two  yards  extra,  by  an 
insinuating  gentleman  behind  the  counter.  Think  of  it,  ye 
happy  dames  in  moderate  circumstances,  whose  pathway 
through  the  labyrinth  of  dry  goods  is  luckily  fenced  in  for  you 
by  ideas  of  something  cheap. 

But  it  was  not  alone  shopping,  or  servants,  or  house-clean 
ing  and  renovating,  or  the  new  furniture,  that  exercised  Mrs. 
Ledgeral's  mind.  She,  too,  was  an  inventor.  She  had  a 
plan — a  grand  plan,  but  she  kept  it  to  herself.  Not  even 
Mrs.  Struggles  had  a  hint  of  it,  and  now  it  was  necessary  to 
broach  the  subject  to  Mr.  Ledgeral. 

"  You  are  not  going  out  immediately  ?  "  she  demanded,  as 
Mr.  Ledgeral,  having  finished  a  cup  of  strong  coffee,  pushed 
back  his  plate  of  untasted  muffins  and  rose  from  the  table. 

"  I  shall  be  in  for  an  hour  yet.     Why  do  you  ask  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  want  a  few  minutes'  conversation  with  you.  I 
have  something  to  propose." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  hesitated  for  a  moment.  Everything  now 
startled  him.  But  he  recovered  himself.  It  could  be  noth 
ing  ;  some  party  or  ball,  or  something  of  the  kind  ;  best  meet 
it  at  once. 

"  Come  into  the  library,  then,"  he  replied,  and  leading  the 
way,  threw  open  the  door  for  Mrs.  Ledgeral. 

"  You  know,  my  dear,"  began  Mrs.  Ledgeral,  "  that  we 
shall  have  to  give  a  large,  a  very  large,  wedding  reception." 


NEVER  AGAIN.  647 

"  Is  it  settled  ?  Has  Helen  accepted  him  ? "  demanded 
Mr.  Ledgeral  in  an  eager  tone. 

"  Well,  yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Ledgeral.  "  I  consider  it  quite 
settled.  She  has  promised  me  to  accept  him,  and  the  Count 
has  gone  off  just  for  a  little  run  on  the  prairies  with  that 
understanding.  He  will  be  back  in  a  fortnight,  and  then  you 
will  have  to  arrange  matters  with  him  yourself." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  winced,  and  his  cheek  grew  if  possible  a  little 
paler.  It  was  too  true  that  there  were  matters  that  would  have 
to  be  arranged  with  the  Count.  Mrs.  Ledgeral  little  knew 
how  keenly  her  careless  words  cut  home  to  her  husband's  heart. 

"  Now,  we  shall  have  to  give,"  she  continued,  "  a  grand 
reception,  and  our  house,  large  as  it  is,  is  not  large  enough, 
and  I  think  going  to  Delmonico's  is  a  little — well,  I  won't 
say  vulgar,  for  several  of  our  friends  of  undoubted  posi 
tion  and  refinement  and  taste  have  given  there  the  most 
splendid  entertainments  ;  but  I  will  say  a  little — just  a  little — 
out  of  harmony  with  my  old-fashioned  and  very  extreme 
notions  of  what  is  delicate  and  proper.  Something  like  bor 
rowing  or  hiring  plates,  spoons,  and  waiters  for  a  dinner 
party,  you  know.  Uncle  Shippen  denounces  the  whole  sys 
tem,  as  far  as  dinners  are  concerned.  He  says  that  it  is  vul 
gar  in  the  extreme ;  that  it  has  killed  the  little  cosy, 
comfortable  dinner,  where  you  had  a  feast  of  soul  and  flow 
of  wit,  and  a  fair  share  of  refined  geniality  and  enjoyment, 
and  in  its  place  substituted  the  grand  dinner  d  la  Lucullus, 
with  lamprey  soup,  peacock's  brains,  and  pigs'  livers  cooked 
fifty-five  different  ways,  and  around  which  very  respectable 
and  clever  people  sit,  for  the  nonce,  a  row  of  unmitigated  prigs 
and  humbugs.  Now,  you  know,  my  dear,  I  don't  subscribe 
to  all  that  Uncle  Shippen  says,  but  I  am  not  sure  that  he  is 
not  right  in  this,  and  I  feel  somewhat  in  the  same  way  about 
going  to  Delmonico's  for  a  ball  or  party.  But,  more  than 
this,  I  don't  think  that  a  wedding  reception  has  ever  been 
tried  there  by  any  one  in  our  set.  It  will  be  much  more 
genteel  to  do  the  thing  at  home.  So  I  have  an  idea,  and  I 
have  consulted  Chipman,  the  builder,  and  he  says  it  can  be 


648  NEVER  AGAIN. 

done  just  as  well  as  not.  I  propose  to  have  a  frame  of  wood 
that  will  enclose  the  whole  of  the  back-yard,  and  cover  the 
frame  with  canvas.  This  will  give  us  a  large  room,  forty  feet 
square,  communicating  with  the  house  through  the  dining- 
room  windows.  Chipman  says'  he  can  have  it  all  fixed  so 
that  he  can  put  it  up  and  take  it  down  again  in  two  or  three 
hours,  and  that  the  Fire  Department  will  give  us  leave  for 
just  one  day  ;  and  then  the  interior  can  be  so  splendidly 
hung  in  cretonne.  Stewart  has  some  rich  patterns — or,  for 
the  matter  of  that,  a  few  hundred  yards  of  blue  and  yellow 
satin — " 

Mr.  Ledgeral  jumped  up  from  his  chair  and  began  to  pace 
up  and  down  the  room,  his  usual  movement  when  irritated  or 
excited. 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  if  you  think  that  would  cost  too  much  we 
can  get  along  with  bunting  and  white  cotton,  and  make  it  up 
in  flowers,"  and  the  lady  paused  inquiringly. 

It  is  a  hard  case,  when  a  man  supposed  to  be  rich  is  in 
reality  desperately  "  short,"  and  yet  don't  dare  own  it  even 
to  the  wife  of  his  bosom.  However,  the  whole  amount,  even 
with  the  blue  and  white  satin,  must  be  so  ridiculously  small, 
in  comparison  with  other  and  more  pressing  sums,  that  it 
was  hardly  worth  thinking  about ;  and,  besides,  Mr.  Ledgeral 
felt  a  sense  of  relief  on  finding  that  Mrs.  Ledgeral's  mys 
terious  and  important  communication  was  laden  with  no 
mightier  issue  than  a  demand  for  permission  to  spend  a  few 
thousands  more  than  he  had  contemplated. 

"  Do  as  you  please,  my  dear,"  he  exclaimed,  resuming  his 
seat ;  "  but  be  sure  you  make  Chipman  give  you  an  estimate, 
and  then  hold  him  strictly  to  the  terms  of  his  agreement." 

"  Oh,  I  will  take  good  care  of  that,"  replied  Mrs.  Ledgeral, 
with  her  hand  on  the  door.  "  He  is  to  furnish  the  outside 
frame  and  covering,  and  a  good  floor,  and  put  it  all  up  com 
plete  by  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  so  as  to  give  us  time  to 
decorate  the  inside,  and  all  for  twelve  hundred  dollars — not 
a  cent  more.  Oh,  I  will  look  out  for  that  ;  you  need  not 
trouble  yourself,  my  dear.  You  just  keep  quiet  and  take  care 


NEVER   AGAIN.  649 

of  your  health.  I  think  you  worry  too  much  about  the 
Count.  You  certainly  have  looked  better  since  he  has  gone." 

The  lady  closed  the  door,  and  Mr.  Ledgeral  sat  down  to 
his  table  and  listlessly  eyed  a  row  of  letters  which  Joseph  had 
taken  from  the  letter-box  and  arranged  with  formal  pre 
cision. 

The  old  fellow  shuffled  in  at  this  moment  with  an  addi 
tional  note,  which  he  had  just  taken  in  at  the  door,  and  for  a 
few  minutes  occupied  himself  in  rearranging  the  row  of  let 
ters,  all  the  time  with  a  side  look  at  Mr.  Ledgeral. 

"  That  will  do,  Joseph,"  at  length  exclaimed  that  gentle 
man,  a  little  impatiently. 

"  Yes,  dat  will  do.  I  wish  some  oder  tings  would  do  as 
well." 

Suddenly  the  old  man  turned  himself  around  and  ad- 
dreesed  his  master  in  a  firm  and  decided  tone. 

"  Look  heah,  Misser  Cort  Ledgeral,  I  want  to  ax  you 
some  questions." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  started.  His  mind  had  dwelt  so  long  upon 
certain  questions  that  might  some  day  be  asked,  that  ques 
tions  of  any  kind,  and  from  any  quarter,  frightened  him. 

"  I  want  to  ax  you,"  continued  Joseph,  "  if  I  wasn't  born 
in  your  fader's  house — a  free  nigger  ;  down  in  de  old  house 
on  the  east  shore  ? " 

"  I  suppose  so.     Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Fifteen  year  before  you  was  born,  eh?  And  I  wants  to 
ax  you  if  I  didn't  take  you  when  you  was  a  baby  and  brung 
you  up  myself,  all  'cepting  the  feedin'  part,  till  you  was  a  big 
boy  ?  and  ain't  I  done  my  duty  by  you  for  fifty  years — jis 
one-half  of  a  centuary  ?  Well,  den,  how  can  yer  go  and  treat 
me  in  dis  obliverous  manner?" 

Mr.  Ledgeral  looked  surprised. 

"Yes,  I  say  in  a  very  obliverous  manner,"  continued 
Joseph,  bringing  his  hand  down  with  some  force  upon  the 
table.  "  I'm  one  ob  de  family,  I  is,  and  dere  is  someting 
goin'  wrong.  Firs'  I  tink  it  was  de  panic,  'cause  you  know 
we  went  thro'  de  panic  in  thirty-seben,  when  we  was  boys, 


650  NEVER  AC  A IX. 

and  we've  been  through  ebbery  panic  since  den,  and  de  rule  is, 
more  panic  more  Champagne.  But  dere  ain't  no  panic  now  ; 
it's  someting  worse,  and  you  don't  tell  me.  Well,  I  has  been 
reflectum,  I  has,  and  I  am  not  goin'  to  stan'  it ;  here's  dem 
city  six's  you  got  for  me — five  ob  'em,"  and  Joseph  drew 
out  five  thousand  dollar  bonds  and  laid  them  on  the 
table  ;  "  and  here's  someting  you  don't  know — tree  tousand 
seben  hundred  dollars  and  sebenty-seben  cents,"  and  the 
old  man  pulled  out  his  bank-book  and  slapped  it  down  upon 
the  bonds.  "  Dar,  take  it,  and  let  us  go  right  back  to  one 
bottle  ob  Champagne  on  Sunday,  'cepting  dere  is  company. 
Oh,  Misser  Cort !  Misser  Cort !  you  recomblect  de  time  when 
I  larn  you  to  swim  in  de  old  mill-pond,  eh  ?  and  when  I 
buckle  on  your  new  skates,  eh  ?  and  when  we  went  a  diggin' 
sof '  clams  ober  on  de  East  Ribber,  on  old  Pete  Stuyvesant's 
farm,  just  above  de  horse-market ;  and  when  I  lick  dat  big 
fellow  dat  trew  de  stone  at  ye?  And  do  ye  recomblect  when  I 
hold  you  on  de  old  mare,  eh  ?  Ki  !  wasn't  dat  fun  !  and  now 
you  ain't  a  goin'  back  on  de  nigger  as  brung  you  up,  eh  'i " 

Joseph  wheeled  and  shuffled  out  of  the  door  before  Mr. 
Ledgeral  could  recover  from  his  astonishment  at  this  unex 
pected  and  eloquent  address.  Mechanically  he  picked  up 
the  bonds  and  bank-book  and  turned  them  over  in  his  hands. 
Suddenly  he  pushed  them  away,  and  leaning  his  elbows  on 
the  table,  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  His  whole  frame 
shivered,  and  a  loud  sob  of  agony  burst  from  his  heart. 
Joseph's  tender  words  and  generous  offer  had  completely 
lifted  the  thin  and  scanty  veil  of  self-love  from  his  own  un- 
worthiness,  and  remorse,  "  the  raven  of  a  guilty  mind,"  clawed 
and  picked  away  at  his  heart  with  renewed  vigor.  Think  you 
that  the  stern  daughter  of  Nox  always  lays  her  hand  less  lightly 
upon  the  sinner  because  she  visits  him  in  private  ?  I  verily 
believe  that  there  are  honorable  and  honored  gentlemen  walk 
ing  the  streets  this  day  who  would  welcome  public  prosecution 
and  punishment  if  it  could  give  the  peace  of  mind  which  they 
have  lost  forever. 

Mr.  Ledgeral   recovered  himself  in  a  few  moments  and 


NEVER  AGAIN.  651 

turned  to  his  letters.  He  knew  that  most  of  them  related  to 
his  own  private  business,  and  that  there  was  very  little  chance 
of  these  offering  any  very  agreeable  reading.  However,  they 
must  be  looked  into,  and  he  began  slowly  tearing  off  the 
envelopes  and  glancing  at  their  contents.  "  Stiggins  and 
Hyney  !  D — n  those  fellows,  they  want  more  margins !  Let 
me  see,  ten  thousand,  eh?  Ohio  and  Mississippi  fallen  off 
five  per  cent.,  and  still  looking  downward.  Was  there  ever 
such  luck  ?  Let  'em  sell  out  then.  They  don't  get  a  cent 
more  from  me.  Ah !  here's  something  jolly ;  well  number 
five  stopped  pumping ;  going  to  draw  tubing  and  change  seed- 
bag.  Well  number  three — the  engine  blew  out  cylinder-head 
yesterday ;  by  wonderful  good  luck  nobody  was  killed. 
D — n  'em,  I  wish  it  had  raked  everything  within  a  mile 
of  Petroleum  Centre !  Nothing  more  to  report,  except  that 
the  foundations  of  the  big  tank  gave  way  night  before  last. 
She  got  a  slight  cant,  and  that  strained  her  so  that  she  sprung 
a  leak,  and  before  we  found  it  out  in  the  morning  we  lost 
about  five  hundred  barrels ;  not  sure  but  that  we  shall  have 
to  take  it  all  down  and  make  the  whole  thing  over  again." 

"  Ah  !  what  is  this  ? "  exclaimed  Mr.  Ledgeral,  with  a  sud 
den  and  violent  start,  as  he  opened  the  note  Joseph  had  last 
brought  in.  "  What  !  Good  heavens !  "  and  Mr.  Ledgeral 
rubbed  his  fingers  across  his  eyes,  as  if  to  wipe  away  an 
obstructing  film,  and  still  he  read  : 

"  Mr.  Ledgeral  thinks  to  a  marriage  between  his  daughter 
and  Count  Isenthal.  It  cannot  be.  C'est  defendupartoutes 
les  lois.  It  cannot  be.  I  forbid  it ;  in  the  name  of  Madame 
D'Okenheim,  I  forbid  it.  If  that  name  calls  up  some  memo 
ries  ;  if  Mr.  Ledgeral  is  the  Mr.  Ledgeral  who — it  is  now 
more  than  twenty-five  years — at  Baden  lived,  for  a  few  weeks, 
in  the  passionate  glow  of  as  proud  a  heart  as  ever  melted  to 
the  tender  touch  of  love  ;  if  he  recollects  sitting  on  the  bal 
cony  of  the  Hotel  de  1'Europe  one  beautiful  moonlight  night 
— that  time  when  hand  first  clasped  hand,  and  a  youthful  and 
unpractised  tongue  stammered  out  its  unrebuked  confessions; 
if  he  recollects  that  midnight  stroll  along  the  banks  of  the 
Oos,  he  will  give  a  private  audience  to  the  writer  of  this  note, 
who  will  call  to  that  purpose  at  ten  o'clock  to-morrow. 

"  ANNETTE." 


652  NEVER  AC  A IX. 

Mr.  Leclgeral's  hands  trembled  so  that  he  could  scarcely 
hold  the  note,  as  he  read  and  re-read  it.  He  threw  it  from 
him,  and  the  crumpled  paper  floated  oh*"  with  a  hiss  and  rattle 
to  the  floor.  He  eyed  it  for  a  moment  in  mingled  astonish 
ment  and  horror,  not  diminished  because  of  a  feeling  of  in 
tense  curiosity. 

It  was  impossible  !  No,  there  it  lay,  and  he  had  read 
every  word  of  it  aright.  It  was  no  fiction  of  his  disordered 
fancy  ;  it  was  a  real  thing,  and  with  something  terribly  threat 
ening  in  its  look — vague,  gigantic — he  could  not  guess  what. 

Can  it  be  that  the  wicked  deeds  of  hot-blooded,  reck 
less  youth,  condoned  by  sleepy  conscience,  ever  return  after 
an  oblivion  of  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  to  plague  and 
perplex  a  respectable  gentleman  of  middle  age  ?  It  seems 
ridiculous  at  first  sight  to  suppose  so. 

Nemesis  is  represented  with  wings,  and  with  helm  and 
wheel.  She  ought  to  have  added  to  her  emblems  a  fine- 
meshed  scoop-net,  as  indicating  that,  although  her  flight  may 
be  delayed,  she,  in  the  end,  fishes  up  all  our  sins,  great  and 
small. 

Mr.  Ledgeral  cowered,  and  looked  back  over  his  shoulder 
with  a  swift,  furtive  glance  that  had  almost  become  habitual 
to  him.  No  actual  spectre  met  his  eye  ;  no  gaunt,  horrible  skel 
eton  flourished  its  fleshless  bones  in  the  air,  but  if  such  had 
been  in  sight  he  would  not,  perhaps,  have  been  a  whit  more 
frightened.  If  he  had  seen  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
room  the  splendid  statue  by  Phidias  of  the  Rhammusian 
goddess,  ten  cubits  high,  with  her  head  touching  the  ceiling, 
he  could  not  have  bowed  himself  in  more  desperate  depre 
cation. 

Why  wonder  that  he  could  not  keep  bottle  and  glass  from 
clinking  loudly  as,  with  trembling  hand,  he  poured  out  a  deep 
draught  of  bourbon. 

The  stimulus  steadied  him.  He  picked  up  the  letter  and 
sat  down  to  read  it  once  more. 

Annette  !  Yes,  he  recollected  the  name.  There  had  been 
an  Annette.  He  could  not,  however,  recall  her  personality 


NEVER  AGAIN.  653 

to  mind ;  he  had  never  taken  much  notice  of  her ;  his  eyes 
had  been  too  full  of  the  mistress  to  mind  the  maid.  Annette? 
Yes,  that  was  her  name — Annette  ! 

But  business  must  be  attended  to.  He  was  a  public  man 
— a  prominent  man.  He  must  at  least  show  himself  in 
Burling  Slip  if  he  did  not  want  half-a-dozen  reporters  inter 
viewing  him  as  to  the  state  of  his  health.  A  suspicion  of 
a  rapid  breaking  up  might  very  much  injure  him  in  the 
present  complicated  condition  of  his  affairs,  and  as  he  did 
not  care  to  have  his  digestive  apparatus  commented  upon  in 
the  Daily  Howler,  with  perhaps  a  chance  of  misrepresen 
tation  of  either  his  lungs  or  his  liver,  he  must  go  down  town, 
at  least  for  an  hour  or  two. 

If  he  had  known  the  comments  his  appearance  excited, 
he  might  have  decided  upon  staying  at  home.  It  was  a 
subject  of  conversation  in  the  bank  parlor  for  ten  minutes. 

"  How  bad  Ledgeral  looks,"  exclaimed  the  President. 

"Yes,"  replied  a  director,  "looks  as  if  he  was  going  to 
strike  a  balance  soon.  I  suppose  it's  his  lungs." 

"  No,  I  think  it's  his  liver." 

"  He'll  cut  up  well !     People  say  two  millions." 

"  Bah  !  I  always  divide  by  two.  He's  been  speculating, 
and  I  guess  he's  been  hard  hit.  I  don't  believe  he'll  leave  a 
cent  over  a  million." 

"  Well  that's  enough  to  leave  behind  one.  To  be  sure  it 
don't  count  for  much  in  this  world,  but  you  have  the  satisfac 
tion  of  knowing  that  it  will  count  for  a  great  deal  less  in 
the  next.  The  preachers  have  got  us  there,  eh  ?  Naked 
we  were  born  you  know — ha !  ha !  But  about  that  discount 
for  Simpkins — what  do  you  say  ? " 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

Interview  with  Madame  Steignitz — A  Partnership  arranged — A  grand 
Reform — Joseph  and  the  Bourbon. 

TEN  o'clock  ! 
Mr.  Ledgeral  had  been  up  since  sunrise.  He  had  no 
appetite.  He  did  not  care  for  breakfast,  and  yet  he  had  a 
certain  sinking  of  the  stomach  which,  except  in  the  case  of 
the  confirmed  inebriate,  requires  a  stimulus  very  different 
from  that  of  alcohol — the  stimulus  of  distention.  He  must 
eat  something.  He  must  at  least  pretend  to  have  eaten 
something,  so  he  told  Joseph  to  say  at  the  breakfast-table 
that  he  had  gone  out  for  a  walk,  and  would  take  his  break 
fast  at  Delmonico's. 

Ten  o'clock ! 

Mr.  Ledgeral  had  been  back  for  half  an  hour  or  more, 
and  had  been  trying  to  read  the  Herald,  but  the  sound  of 
the  door  bell  interrupted  him  so  frequently  that  he  could  get 
no  further  than — "  Enormous  defalcation — 500,000  missing 
bonds — Flight  of  the  cashier ! "  etc.,  etc.  Punctual  to  the 
moment  there  was  a  faint  tinkle,  followed  in  due  time  by  a 
tap  at  the  library  door,  and  Joseph,  who  had  received  his 
orders,  ushered  in  a  female  habited  in  black,  with  a  black 
lace  veil  concealing  her  features,  and  a  bonnet  and  shawl 
exhibiting  just  that  degree  of  faded  and  worn-out  gentility 
that  would  have  rendered  it  impossible  for  the  nearest  ob 
server,  even  aided  by  the  small  hand  and  the  new  and  fault 
less  glove,  to  place  her  with  any  certainity  in  the  social 
scale. 

Joseph  brought  forward  a  chair  for  her,  and  Mr.  Ledgeral 


NEVER  AGAIN.  655 

rose  and  by  a  movement  of  his  hand  rather  than  by  any 
words  invited  her  to  be  seated. 

She  paused  for  a  moment  until  Joseph  had  closed  the 
door  behind  him  and  then  dropped  into  the  chair,  and  draw 
ing  aside  her  veil,  fastened  a  pair  of  piercing  black  eyes  on  the 
gentleman. 

He  in  his  turn  regarded  her  with  a  steadfast  stare,  and 
for  a  minute  and  more  not  a  word  was  said. 

"  I  cannot  say  that  I  recollect  you.  Have  I  ever  seen  you 
before  ?  what  name,  Madame  ?  To  what  may  I  attribute  this 
visit  ? " 

Mr.  Ledgeral  spoke  slowly,  and  with  intervals  between  his 
questions,  while  the  little  old  woman  stared  on,  as  if  not  hear 
ing  a  word. 

"  You  do  not  recollect  me,"  she  said.  "  Well,  it  is  what 
I  should  think.  I  have  altered  so  much  more  than  you.  I 
am  such  a  poor  old  woman,  and  then  at  that  time  you  had  no 
eyes  for  any  one  but  Madame." 

"Madame!  madame  who?  what  madame?"  demanded 
Mr.  Ledgeral,  with  a  feeble  affectation  of  surprise  in  his 
intonation. 

"  Bah  !  Madame  D'Okenheim  !  And  you  would  know  my 
name  ?  My  name  is  Annette.  My  maiden  name  you  would 
not  recollect — perhaps  you  never  heard  ;  but  my  married  name 
you  will  know  better  ;  it  is  Steignitz — Madame  Steignitz  d 
votre  service. 

"  Ah  !  I  see  you  recollect  Steignitz."  continued  the  speaker, 
as  Mr.  Ledgeral  excitedly  moved  his  chair  up  a  little  nearer. 
"  I  married  him,  and  together  we  came  to  this  country — it  is 
now  twenty-six  years.  You  recollect  him  ? " 

"  Yes  !  I  recollect  him,  and  I  recollect  you  too,  now.  Is 
your  husband  living  ?  " 

"  No  ;  he  was  murdered  in  Mississippi.  He  had  a  iand 
quarrel  with  a  desperado,  and  my  husband  gained  the  suit 
only  to  be  killed  with  the  bowie  on  the  steps  of  the  court 
house  ;  and  then  I  was  disgust  with  the  life  at  St.  Louis,  but 
we  had  some  little  property  ;  two  or  three  houses,  and  some 


656  NEVER  AGAIN. 

land  close  to  the  city,  and  so  for  my  little  boy  I  stay  there  two 
or  three  years;  and  then  we  make  a  little  trip  for  the  summer, 
and  the  steamboat  explode,  and  oh  mon  Dieu  I  they  pull  me 
up  out  of  the  water  alone.  What  for  God  allows  that,  I  don't 
know.  Oh !  I  wish  for  one  thousand  times  that  I  had  been 
let  for  to  drown.  But  I  could  stay  at  the  West  no  longer.  I 
sell  everything,  and  come  to  New  York." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  listened  impatiently.  "  And  Madame 
D'Okenheim  !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  what  of  her  ?  you  have 
heard  from  her  since  you  have  been  in  this  country ;  what 
has  become  of  her  ?  strange  that  I  could  hear  nothing  of  her  ; 
strange  that  you  all  left  Geneva  so  suddenly  and  so  secretly. 
And  Monsieur  D'Okenheim  !  is  he  still  living  ?  " 

"  He  must  be  dead,"  replied  Madame  Steignitz,  nodding 
her  head  emphatically.  "  Yes,  he  must  be  dead." 

"And  Madame?" 

"  She  !  ah  !  I  cannot  say  ;  I  do  not  know.  I  must  inform 
myself;  I  must  see  and  question  the  young  man  ;  why  did  I 
not  think  so  to  do  sooner  ?  Commeje  suis  bute  ! 

Something  dubious  in  the  manner,  as  well  as  the  words 
puzzled  Mr.  Ledgeral,  and  he  waited  a  moment  for  her  to 
continue,  but  she  did  not  speak. 

"  What  young  man  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  What  do  you 
mean  ? "  and,  suddenly  thinking  of  the  note  he  had  received, 
he  laid  his  hand  upon  her  arm  with  some  energy,  and 
exclaimed  in  a  sharper  and  more  imperative  tone  "  What  did 
you  mean  by  writing  to  me  in  the  name  of  Madame  D'Oken 
heim  ?  What  did  you  mean  by  conjuring  up  memories  that 
ought  to  be  forgotten  ?  What  means  this  visit  ?  speak  !  I  am 
a  very  sick  man,  as  you  see.  I  have  had  terrible  trials  and 
troubles ;  I  cannot  stand  any  suspense ;  speak  !  say  why  do 
you  undertake  to  forbid  the  marriage  of  my  daughter  with 
Count  Isenthal  ?  " 

Madame  Steignitz  nodded  her  head  two  or  three  times  in 
her  peculiar  way. 

"  Because  she  does  not  love  him,"  she  at  length  replied. 

Mr.  Ledgeral  started,  and  pushed  back  his  chair — an  angry 
flush  lending  some  color  to  his  pale,  wan  face. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  6^7 

"  And  did  you  come  here  to  tell  me  that  ?  how  can  you 
know  anything  about  it  ?  what  business  is  it  of  yours,  even  if 
it  were  so?  What  right  have  you  to  meddle  in  my  affairs? 
There  was  nothing  in  your  former  knowledge  of  me  to  war 
rant  you.  If  you  were  obliging  and  discreet  at  the  time,  it 
was  for  the  sake  of  your  mistress  ;  I  was  under  no  obligation 
to  you ;  I  owe  you  nothing." 

Madame  Steignitz  sat  perfectly  imperturbable,  till  Mr. 
Ledgeral  paused. 

"  She  not  only  does  not  love  him,"  she  replied,  "  but  she 
loves  somebody  else.  Ah !  how  could  she  help  it  ? — she  so 
gentille,  so  comme  il  faut,  so  pleine  de  ban  sens,  how  could  she 
help  to  love  man  petit,  my  little  one,  my  Luthare — si  brave,  si 
beau,  si  rempli  de  grace  virile  et  de  vigueurV 

Mr.  Ledgeral's  rage  deepened  almost  into  fury,  and  all 
the  more  readily  as  he  felt  the  conviction  that  the  old  woman 
was  saying  nothing  but  the  truth.  He  strode  two  or  three 
times  up  and  down  the  room,  and  then  stopped  abruptly  be 
fore  her. 

"  This  is  a  piece  of  impertinence,"  he  exclaimed,  "that  I 
will  not  pardon  in  you — still  less  in  the  young  man — if  by 
Luther,  you  mean  that  insolent  and  presumptuous  fellow 
my  clerk,  Luther  Lansdale ;  the  nature  of  your  connection 
with  him  I  know  not  and  I  care  not  to  know !  I  will  clear 
him  out  to-day,  and  you,  if  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  cut 
short  your  visit,  you  will  oblige  me !  I  suppose  you  come  to 
threaten  me.  You  have  a  secret  of  mine  in  your  posession 
• — publish  it  if  you  please.  I  care  not  if  the  whole  world 
know  it !  You  can't  even  annoy  me — and  you  need  not 
think  that  you  can  blackmail  me  in  any  manner  or  form. 
I  defy  you  !  Go  !  " 

Mr.  Ledgeral  pointed  to  the  door,  but  Madame  Steignitz 
did  not  stir  ;  she  merely  nodded  her  head  three  or  four  times 
and  raised  her  eyes  with  a  pitying  expression  to  his  face. 

"  Ah  !  ce pauvre  monsieur  !  ce  pauvre  monsieur!"  she  mut 
tered.     "  When  a  wilful  man  march  upon  a  precipice,  he  do 
not  see — you  cannot  call  him  away  with  the  whisper ;  il  faut 
42 


658  NEVER   AC  A IX. 

lui  arracher par  un  coup  de  tonnerre.  Yes,  monsieur,  I  must 
crush  you — I  must  crush  you  to  the  ground.  Is  that  door 
locked  ?  "  she  sharply  demanded. 

"  It  is  not." 

"  Lock  it !  " 

Mr.  Ledgeral,  surprised  into  obedience,  turned  and 
shoved  the  bolt  into  place. 

"  Now  sit  down  ! "  and  Mr.  Ledgeral,  very  much  to  his 
astonishment,  felt  himself  constrained  by  something  in  tone 
and  manner  to  obey. 

"  Maintenant  ecouttz.  Je  vat's  vous  faire 'dresser  les  cheveux. 
I  left  the  service  of  my  mistress,  whom  you  knew  as 
Madame  D'Okenheim,  it  is  now  twenty-six  years — that 
is,  in  the  year  we  were  all  at  Baden ;  we  parted  very  good 
friends,  but  circumstances  may  arise  which  make  it  best  for 
friends  to  part.  I  knew  too  much  ;  Steignitz  knew  too  much  ; 
and  Monsieur  and  Madame  knew  that  \ve  knew  too  much,  and 
it  might  not  be  convenible  for  us  to  be  longer  in  the  family 
after  an  event  which  everybody  began  to  see  must  happen. 
Well,  we  arrive  in  this  country,  and  two  weeks  after  I  learn 
that  my  mistress  has  given  birth  to  a  boy.  That  boy  was 
the  heir  to  vast  estates,  but  I  knew  that  he  was  not  the  right 
ful  heir  ;  what  do  you  think,  Monsieur?  " 

Mr.  Ledgeral,  with  a  vigorous  effort,  restrained  all  ap 
pearance  of  emotion,  although  in  his  heart  he  was  burning 
to  ask  a  hundred  questions. 

"  Well !  "  he  exclaimed  coldly,  "  what  then  ?  Why  should 
that  interest  me  now  ?  why  should  you  take  the  trouble  to 
come  here  to  tell  me  that  ?  Have  you  nothing  further  to  say  ?  " 

The  old  lady  nodded  her  head  affirmatively.  "Yes,  a  good 
deal  more.  Ecoutez.  When  we  were  at  Baden  we  were  travel 
ling  incognito  ;  D'Okenheim  was  the  name  of  a  little  estate  in 
Gallicia  belonging  to  Monsieur ;  his  true  title — ah  !  you  never 
knew  it !  his  true  title  was — Count  Herman  von  Isenthal !  " 

Mr.  Ledgeral  gave  a  violent  start,  and  clutched  Madame 
Steignitz'  arm  so  fiercely  that  she  writhed  with  the  pain. 

"And  Madame  D'Okenheim  ?"  he  cried. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  659 

"Was  the  Countess  Julia  von  Isenthal." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  uttered  a  loud  groan,  and  sank  back  in  his 
chair.  His  eyes  rolled  fearfully,  and  a  convulsive  shudder, 
followed  by  an  almost  cataleptic  rigidity  of  the  muscles,  passed 
through  his  frame. 

"  Oh  man  Dieu  !  mon  Dieu  /*'  exclaimed  Madame  Steig- 
nitz,  terribly  frightened.  "  //  monrra  ;  he  will  die  !  he  will 
die!  que  faire /  que  ferrai-je ! "  and  whipping  out  her  scent- 
bottle  she  applied  it  with  a  vigorous  dab  to  his  nose. 

Mr.  Ledgeral,  recovering  himself  with  a  deep  gasp,  struck 
the  bottle  with  a  violent  gesture  from  her  hand,  sending  it 
whirling  across  the  room,  and  jumped  to  his  feet.  Staggering 
for  a  few  steps  he  gazed  around  him  wildly,  like  one  awaken 
ing  from  a  dream.  Instinctively  he  stretched  out  his  hand  to 
the  mantel-piece  to  keep  himself  from  falling.  An  instant 
more  of  impeded  nervous  function,  and  permanent  paraly 
sis  would  have  held  him  powerless  in  its  grasp.  It  was  the 
merest  touch  and  go. 

He  threw  himself  back  into  his  seat  and  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands,  and  sobbed  and  groaned  piteously. 

Madame  Steignitz  looked  on,  amazed  at  the  violence  of 
his  emotion.  She  had  expected  him  to  be  startled,  frightened, 
excited,  but  above  all  to  be  thankful  that  the  marriage  had 
been  arrested.  Here  appeared  to  be  nothing  but  utter  de 
spair  and  remorse,  rivalling  in  intensity  the  agony  of  CEdipus 
Tyrannus  over  consummated  incest  and  murder. 

Mr.  Ledgeral  had  never  read  Sophocles.  He  probably 
had  but  very  hazy  notions  of  the  manner  in  which  Corneille 
and  Dryden  and  Lee  and  others  have  treated  that  very  disa 
greeable  story  of  the  kingly  and  incestuous  parricide.  If 
he  had,  he  might  have  solaced  his  mind  with  various  suitable 
quotations — especially  with  the  rantings  put  into  the  mouth  of 
the  unfortunate  king  by  the  last-named  poet : 

"  Fall  darkness  now,  and  everlasting  night 
Shadow  the  globe  ;  may  the  sun  never  dawn, 
The  silver  moon  be  blotted  from  her  orb  ! 
And  for  an  universal  rout  of  nature, 


660  NEVER  AGAIN. 

Through  all  the  inmost  chambers  of  the  sky, 
May  there  not  be  a  glimpse,  one  starry  spark, 
But  gods  meet  gods,  and  jostle  in  the  dark. 
That  jars  may  rise,  and  wrath  divitie  be  hurled, 
Which  may  to  atoms  shake  the  solid  world." 

We  have  italicized  the  last  lines,  as  being  a  very  curious 
combination  of  the  forcible  and  the  funny.  But  we  have  no 
disposition  to  make  fun  of  Mr.  Ledgeral's  state  of  mind.  His 
agony  was  real,  and  might  have  been  treated,  perhaps,  a  little 
more  seriously,  did  we  not  know,  and  did  the  reader  not  guess, 
that  one  element  of  it,  and  that  the  most  horrible,  had  no  real 
foundation. 

Madame  Steignitz  fidgeted  in  her  chair ;  got  up,  and  sat 
down  again  ;  loosened  the  strings  of  her  bonnet,  and  tied  them 
again  i'n  a  hard  knot ;  pinned  and  repinned  her  old  shawl,  and 
nervously  twitched  the  wristbands  of  her  neat  gloves,  all  the 
time  muttering  in  French  and  English,  "  Je  voudrais  bien  savoir 
ce  que  Jest.  I  would  know  what  is  the  matter.  Ah  !  ah !  I 
fear ;  what  if  the  marriage  has  taken  place !  Oh  mon  Dieu  ! 
mon  Dieu  !  quclle  horreur  I " 

As  Mr.  Ledgeral's  emotions  subsided,  she  drew  her  chair 
closer,  and  touching  his  hand,  whispered :  "  It  is  not  too  late, 
is  it  ?  They  are  not  married  ? " 

Mr.  Ledgeral  stared  at  her  wildly,  but  made  no  reply. 

"  It  must  be  prevented,  must  it  not  ? "  she  continued.  "  It 
cannot  go  on,  eh  ?  " 

"  No  ! "  groaned  Mr.  Ledgeral.  "  Go  on  ?  no !  no  !  no  !  But, 
woman  !  woman  !  "  he  continued,  flinging  out  his  arns  so  vio 
lently  that  Madame  drew  back  to  avoid  a  blow — "  or  devil — 
for  only  a  devil  could  have  brought  me  such  news — do  you 
know  I  am  ruined,  utterly,  irredeemably,  damnably  ruined  ?  " 

"  Hush  !  hush  !  do  not  talk  so  loud,"  exclaimed  Madame 
Steignitz  ;  "  and  do  not  say  that.  How  can  you  be  ruined  ? 
you  are  rich ;  you  have  a  grand  business  ;  you  can  send  this 
young  Count  away  at  a  word." 

"  No,  no,  I  cannot !  " 

"  How !     What  is  that  ?    Oh  !  I  see  ;  you  owe  him  some- 


NEVER    AGAIN.  66 1 

thing  ;  you  have  promised  him  ;  you  are  under  some  obliga 
tion,  eh  ?  " 

Mr.  Ledgeral,  in  sheer  despair,  nodded  his  head  almost 
upon  his  breast. 

"  Well,  well ;  tell  me  all ;  perhaps  I  can  do  something. 
I  have  some  power ;  and  for  your  daughter,  and  more  for  my 
Luthare,  I  will  do  much.  Tell  me ;  what  do  you  owe  this 
young  man  ?  how  much  have  you  borrowed  ?  " 

"  You  !  What  could  such  a  woman  do  ?  Have  you  the 
least  idea  what  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  is  ? 
Do  you  know  what  two  thousand  and  fifty  dollars  is  ? " 

"  Perhaps  \  I  am  not  so  ignorant.  Two  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  dollars  is  not  much  !  I  can  help  you  if  that  is  all  that 
prevents  your  freedom  to  break  off  this  marriage  with  the 
Count." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  roused  himself,  and  a  gleam  of  hope  lighted 
up  his  face,  but  it  passed  in  a  moment,  and  he  sank  back  into 
his  chair.  "  You  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  No  !  no  !  it  is  impossi 
ble.  If  I  had  time  ;  three  years  !  two  years  !  one  year  !  but 
the  end  must  come  in  a  month — a  week — perhaps  a  day !  " 

"  Listen  to  me,  Monsieur,"  said  Madame.  "  You  don't  sup 
pose  I  am  such  a  fool  as  to  come  here  without  knowing  some 
thing  about  you  ;  I  know  a  good  deal,  and  I  can  guess  a  good 
deal  more.  Yes,  yes,  I  have  too  much  affair  myself,  and  I 
have  too  much  relations  with  some  homines  d'affaire  not  to 
hear  something  and  to  comprehend.  I  know  you  are  a  great 
merchant,  but  I  know  you  are  a  great  speculator.  A  great 
speculator  is  always  in  want  of  money.  The  Count  is  rich, 
very  rich  ;  I  put  those  two  things  together  ;  I  make  up  my 
mind  ;  I  see  my  road.  Now  listen.  You  have  a  grand  busi 
ness — the  great  house  of  Ledgeral,  Shippen  &  Co.  is  one  of 
the  best  in  town,  is  it  not  ?  It  is  all  right,  eh  ?  Well,  you 
have  how  much  interest  ?  half,  eh  ?  " 

Mr.  Ledgeral  made  a  slight  affirmative  movement. 

"  Will  that  interest  bring  you  in  eighty  thousand  a  year  ? 
Well,  you  need  not  say — 'tis  no  matter — some  years  more, 
some  years  less  ;  but  your  capital,  we  will  say,  is  five  hundred 


662  NEVER  AGAIN. 

thousand  dollars  ;  you  see  I  know  something.  I  make  my 
perquisitions ;  I  have  a  smart  lawyer — he  is  a  great  rascal — 
they  all  are,  and  I  trust  him  just  so  far  as  that  " — and  Madame 
measured  off  about  an  inch  on  her  finger,  "  but  he  is  very  use 
ful,"  she  continued ;  "  he  make  all  the  inquiries  for  me.  Now 
I  will  tell  you  what  you  shall  do.  You  shall  give  your  daugh 
ter  to  my  Luthare.  Ah  !  you  need  not  start  so  ;  my  Luthare  is 
a  match  in  mind  and  body  and  character  for  any  lady,  and  I 
can  make  him  a  match,  in  money,  for  a  princess  of  the  blood  ; 
aye,  aye,  Monsieur,  and  I  will,  too  ! "  and  Madame  Steignitz 
brought  her  little  fist  with  some  force  down  upon  the  table. 
"  'Tis  only  through  him,"  she  continued,  "  that  I  learn  what  to 
do  with  my  money,  and  I  will  pay  for  the  lesson.  I  was  a  poor 
old  woman,  without  one  relative  or  friend  in  the  world — with 
no  one — do  you  understand  me,  Monsieur — with  no  one  to 
love — no  one  to  love  me,  with  not  one  single  soul  who  could 
say  'Bon  jour,  Madame  Steignitz,  I  hope  you  are  well,'  without 
expecting  to  be  paid;  with  not  one  person  who  could  stand  at 
my  coffin  and  say, '  Poor  old  woman  !  I  am  sorry  she  has  gone  ; 
she  was  avare,  'tis  true,  what  you  call  miser ;  she  was  greedy, 
but  she  was  not  quite  such  a  mean,  heartless,  dirty  old  woman 
as  she  seemed.'  Well,  he  come  one  day  like  a  gleam  of  light 
that  makes  bright  my  dark  life.  I  was  jealous  ;  I  was  suspi 
cious.  Oh,  there  is  so  much  of  the  mean  and  dirty  about 
money  in  this  world  ;  so  I  watch  and  watch,  and  wait,  and  say 
nothing,  and  he  go  and  come,  and  think  nothing,  and  when  he 
must  know  I  have  some  little  money  'tis  all  the  same,  and 
when  I  try  once  or  twice  to  make  him  have  some  of  my  money 
he  laugh  at  me,  and  will  take  nothing,  and  still  he  is  so  good 
to  the  old  woman  without  intending  to  do  anything  more  than 
to  be  just  the  brave,  beau,  bon  gar$on  that  he  is.  Ah  f  ah  !  I 
thought  I  could  pay  him  some  day,  and  not  far  off,  either  ;  for 
I  am  a  very  poor,  feeble  old  woman,  and  I  shall  go — yes,  yes, 
I  shall  go  soon,  but  now  I  owe  him  more  than  I  can  pay  ;  he 
save  my  life  ;  he  rescue  me  from  the  bandits  ;  without  his  devo 
tion  and  his  courage  and  his  perseverance  I  should  not  be  in 
this  room  now.  But  if  I  should  say,  '  Here,  take  my  money,' 


NEVER  AGAIN.  663 

he  would  say,  '  Bah !  old  woman,  go  away ;  I  can  earn  my 
fortune  for  myself.'  Oh  !  he  is  so  proud !  it  is  wicked,  the 
pride  that  young  man  has  ;  but  I  will  be  even  with  him ;  1 
will  give  him  something  that  he  will  value  more  than  all  the 
millions  in  the  world  •  and  you,  Monsieur,  you  shall  help  me  ; 
I  must  make  you  help  me.  Now  I  am  not  going  to  throw 
money  away  ;  I  will  make  a  bargain  with  you — a  bargain  that 
nobody  shall  know  anything  about.  You  shall  give  your 
daughter  to  my  Luthare  ;  he  loves  her — oh  !  oh  !  I  cannot  tell 
you  how  much ;  but,  Monsieur,  recall  that  time  at  Baden.  Did 
you  never  know  a  love  so  wild,  so  mad,  so  fierce  that  God's 
own  warning  finger  in  the  sky  could  not  have  kept  you  back  ? 
Well,  my  Luthare  loves  your  daughter  just  as  much — mats  avec 
si  pen  d'egoisme, — pardon,  with  so  much  unselfishness  and  ten 
derness  that  you  could  never  know  ;  well — she  loves  him.  You 
doubt  it  ?  Well,  well,  we  will  leave  it  to  be  decided  by  her. 
You  shall  give  her  to  Mr.  Luthare,  if  she  loves  him,  and  is  will 
ing — celd  va  satis  dire.  But  at  any  rate  you  shall  give  him 
full  chance  to  gain  his  end  ;  you  shall  take  him  into  partner^ 
ship,  and  give  him  half  of  your  share  of  the  business,  and  I  will 
pay  you  three  hundred  thousand  dollars,  and  nobody  shall  be 
a  bit  more  wise  than  we  two." 

Here  was  a  sudden  lighting  up  of  the  whole  sky,  just 
as  the  storm-cloud  looks  most  portentous.  But  Mr.  Ledg- 
eral  could  hardly  believe  his  eyes  or  his  ears.  "  You  !  "  he 
exclaimed,  doubtfully,  "you  pay  me  three  hundred  thousand 
dollars  !  How  ?  when  ?  Impossible  !  " 

"  Not  at  all  impossible,"  replied  Madame  Steignitz,  nod 
ding  her  head  emphatically.  "  Say  that  you  will  agree  to 
the  terms,  and  the  money — either  in  notes  or  securities — • 
shall  be  on  this  table  to-morrow ;  or  you  shall  come  to  my 
house,  which  will  be  better ;  we  will  have  no  checks  to  show 
where  it  comes  from.  But  perhaps  you  will  take  some  time 
to  consider — a  week,  or  a  month,  perhaps  ? " 

"  Not  a  day  !  Not  a  moment !  I  consent  to  all — every 
thing,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Ledgeral,  stretching  himself  up  with 
a  sense  of  returning  animation. 


664  NEVER  AGAIN. 

The  idea  of  being  once  more  a  free  man  ;  an  indubitable, 
respectable  man  ;  a  man  who  could  hold  his  aristocratic  head 
up  once  more  in  Wall  Street,  and  carry  round  with  untrem- 
bling  hand  the  plate  at  St.  Cyprian's,  diffused  its  genial 
warmth  through  every  vein  and  nerve  of  his  body.  Once 
clear  of  the  Count,  and  his  horizon  was  almost  cloudless. 
True,  he  owed  a  vast  deal  of  money — but  those  debts  were 
all  honest  debts  ;  he  could  manage  them  in  time,  even  if  his 
hitherto  large  surplus  income  should  be  shorn  in  two.  He 
could  stave  them  off,  and  renew  them,  or  stand  suit,  and  pay 
them  when  he  should  be  ready.  As  to  living,  there  would  be, 
with  Helen  married,  only  Mrs.  Ledgeral,  Laura,  and  himself. 
Three  people  ought  to  be  able  to  get  along  on  forty  thousand 
a  year ;  and  as  to  the  partnership,  there  could  be  no  objec 
tion  on  the  part  of  any  member  of  the  firm,  as  it  disturbed  no 
capital ;  and  what  more  natural  than  that  he  should  want  to 
release  himself,  as  far  as  possible,  from  the  cares  of  business, 
or  that  he  should  decide  to  put  such  an  eminently  competent 
young  man  as  his  son-in-law  in  his  place,  or  that  he  should 
dower  his  daughter  so  handsomely?  The  only  question  was 
about  Mrs.  Ledgeral — she  might  resist ;  but — well,  she's  a 
wise  woman,  thought  Mr.  Ledgeral,  and  she  will  see  that  the 
odds  are  against  her. 

A  few  minutes'  further  conversation  settled  certain  details. 
The  only  question  was  as  to  the  time  that  the  partnership 
arrangement  should  go  into  effect.  Mr.  Ledgeral  thought 
that  for  appearance'  sake  he  ought  to  take  at  least  a  month 
for  the  excogitation  of  a  scheme  so  important. 

"  Well,  as  you  please,"  replied  Madame.  "  I  shall  leave 
it  all  to  you.  When  I  make  up  my  mind  to  confide,  I  confide  ; 
but  when  I  don't,  I  trust  not  one  cent — not  so  much  as  one 
centime.  You  come  to  my  house  Wednesday  afternoon,  and 
you  shall  make  me  an  acknowledgment  for  three  hundred 
thousand  dollars  and  its  object,  and  you  shall  find  the  certi 
fied  certificate  of  deposit  all  ready  for  you.  Take  your  own 
time,  then,  but  I  shall  charge  you  interest  until  the  papers  of 
the  partnership  are  signed.  That  is  right,  eh  ?  You  know  I 
must  have  my  interest.  You  will  pay  me  the  interest,  eh  ?" 


NEVER  AGAIN.  665 

Madame  Steignitz  took  her  departure.  Mr.  Ledgeral 
watched  her  as  she  tottered  down  the  front  steps.  Why  had 
he  not  thought  to  send  for  a  carriage  ?  She  might  tumble 
down  or  be  run  over  in  the  street ;  and  then  what  an  utter 
wreck  of  his  battered  and  tempest-worn  craft,  just  in  sight  of 
port  ! 

He  pulled  out  the  bottle  of  Bourbon  from  its  hiding- 
place,  and  was  about  to  turn  out  a  measure,  when  he  sud 
denly  and  with  violent  energy  recorked  the  bottle,  and  placing 
it  and  the  glass  upon  the  table,  rung  the  bell  for  Joseph. 

"  You  want  me,  Misser  Ledgeral  ? "  exclaimed  the  old  fel 
low,  in  what  he  intended  to  be  in  a  particularly  cherky  tone. 
"  Oh  !  Oh  !  Misser  Cort,  you  ain't  gwine  back  on  dis  old 
nigger?"  he  continued,  as  Mr.  Ledgeral  extended  his  hand. 

"  No,  my  old  friend,"  replied  Mr.  Ledgeral,  shaking 
old  Joseph's  hand,  "  I  am  not  going  back  on  you,  as  you  call 
it,  but  I'll  tell  you  what — we'll  all  go  back  to  the  old  times. 
I  return  you  your  bonds  and  bank-book  only  because  I 
have  no  real  need  of  them  ;  but  you  must  not  think,  that  I 
shall  ever  forget  that  you  offered  them.  Here,  take  them ; 
and  take  away  this,  too,"  pointing  to  the  bottle  ;  "  and  don't 
you  ever  let  such  miserable  stuff  come  into  this  room  again, 
or  into  the  house,  either,  for  that  matter." 

The  old  man  shuffled  his  feet  excitedly,  and  winked  and 
blinked  his  eyes,  while  a  big  tear  ran  down  his  cheek. 
"  Why,  why,  Misser  Cort  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Why  ?  what  ?  der  ye 
really  mean  it?  Der  ye  mean  it?"  Suddenly  seizing  the 
bottle,  and  assuming  an  erect  and  respectful  attitude,  he  con 
tinued,  in  a  firm  tone,  "  Misser  Ledgeral,  you  hab  nebber 
giben  an  order  in  dis  house  dat  shall  be  more  continerously 
obeyed.  Not  a  drop,  sir  ;  not  a  drop !  and  de  Champagne, 
sir,  only  on  Sundays,  sir,  eh  ?" 

"  Only  on  Sundays,"  replied  Mr.  Ledgeral,  nodding  and 
smiling  kindly. 

"'Ceptin'  dere  is  company — always  'ceptin'  dere  is  com 
pany  ?  But  when  we  is  alone,  only  on  Sundays.  Ki !  dat's 
de  day  !  I  don't  mind  de  pop  den.  It  sounds  solemn,  jess 


666  NEVER   AGAI.Y. 

like  de  church  bell ;  but  on  de  week-day  it  go  thro'  my  head 
like  a  pistol  shot 

"But,  Misser  Ledgeral,"  continued  Joseph,  putting  his 
head  back  into  the  room,  "  will  you  permit  dis  darkey  to  ax 
ye  one  question  ?  Are  ye  sartin  sure  de  panic  is  all  ober  ? 
Oh  !  tank  de  Lord  for  all  His  mercies.  Dis  is  de  six  panic  we 
get  trew." 

Joseph's  first  act  on  getting  back  into  his  pantry  was  to 
smash  the  bottle  against  the  marble  edge  of  the  sink.  This 
little  piece  of  violence  seemed  to  have  a  soothing  effect  upon 
his  feelings.  He  sat  down,  pulled  out  his  handkerchief, 
wiped  and  adjusted  his  spectacles,  and  began  the  examination 
of  his  bank-book,  all  the  time  muttering  his  thoughts  aloud. 
"  De  dam  nasty  stuff!  How  he  smells.  'Tain't  approprimate 
for  no  gemman  to  drink.  'Tain't  fit  for  niggers  ;  no,  not  eben 
for  de  low  Irish  ;  and  den  it  gibs  eberybocly  Misser  Bright's 
disease  drefful.  I  hear  'em  all  say  dat  Misser  Bright  is  de 
biggest  man  in  de  English  gubberment.  What  de  dibbel  de 
English  gubberment  want  to  go  and  make  sich  a  disease  for, 
dis  ere  darkey  can't  comprehend,  nohow.  I  guess  it's  jess 
bekase  ob  dat  Alabama  bisness." 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

Uncle  Shippen  on  Marriage — A  Family  Council — Letter  from  the  Count 
— Old  Memories. 

"  T  T  AS  Helen  been   round  this   morning?"   demanded 
JL  JL    Uncle  Shippen  of  his  wife. 

"  No,"  replied  Mrs.  Shippen,  "  I  have  not  seen  her  for 
two  days.  That  is  something  very  unusual,  you  know,  but  I 
suppose  her  time — and  thoughts  too — must  be  pretty  well 
occupied  just  now." 

"  I  don't  like  this  business  at  all,"  exclaimed  Uncle  Ship- 
pen,  pushing  back  his  chair  from  the  breakfast-table.  "  She 
don't  care  for  him,  I  am  sure,  and  it's  a  sin  and  a  shame." 

"  But  it's  such  a  splendid  match.  I  don't  wonder  Ledg- 
eral  and  your  sister  are  so  anxious  for  it." 

"  Splendid  match  I  not  a  bit  of  it.  Our  Helen  couldn't 
make  a  poorer  match.  Why,  do  you  know,  his  mother  died 
of  consumption  at  thirty — he  told  me  so,  and  his  father  did 
not  reach  fifty.  I  have  not  had  an  opportunity  of  measuring 
his  longevity  indications ;  but  as  far  as  I  can  judge  from 
mere  observation,  he's  below  the  average.  I  don't  like  to 
interfere  in  these  matters,  but  I  must  in  this  case." 

"  Nonsense  I  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Shippen  ;  "  you  can  do 
nothing.  You  know  when  your  sister  has  once  got  her  mind 
set  upon  a  thing,  you  may  as  well  talk  to  the  winds.  That, 
however,  would  be  perhaps  no  reason  for  our  not  meddling 
in  the  matter.  The  chief  reason  is  Helen  herself.  I  don't 
know  what  to  make  of  the  girl.  I  have  talked  with  her,  and 
I  can't  find  out  whether  she  really  wants  to  marry  the  Count  or 


668  NEVER  AC  A IX. 

not.  She  seems  to  think  that  she  must  marry  him — that  she 
is  forced  to  marry  him  ;  and  yet  she  won't  admit  that  she  is 
pushed  to  it  against  her  will.  She  says  that  she  likes  him, 
and  esteems  him  very  highly ;  and  yet  she  is  evidently  un 
happy.  I  said  to  her,  '  Helen,  say  that  you  don't  want  to 
marry  the  Count,  say  so  boldly,  and  I  will  support  you  in  it. 
I  don't  care  how  much  your  father  and  mother  have  com 
mitted  themselves  to  the  Count,  I'll  settle  that  matter  for 
you.  Just  speak  out  boldly,'  said  I.  'Oh,  no,  no,'  she  cried, 
'  don't  say  anything ;  don't  do  anything ; '  and  that  was 
about  all  that  I  could  get  out  of  her.  The  girl  has  got  to 
be  a  mystery  !  I  don't  understand  her." 

"  Well,  I  do,"  exclaimed  Uncle  Shippen,  slowly  walking 
up  and  down  the  room  ;  "  I  do  !  and  I'll  walk  round  and  see 
Ledgeral  about  the  matter  this  morning,  before  he  goes  out. 
I  am  not  going  to  allow  such  a  girl  as  Helen — a  girl  with  such 
a  rich  inheritance  of  vitality  and  longevity — a  girl  that  under 
proper  circumstances  would  make  such  a  splendid  mother  of 
a  healthy,  long-lived  and  useful  family — I  am  not  going  to  let 
her  throw  herself  away,  if  I  can  help  it.  Don't  talk  to  me 
about  your  Counts  and  your  millionnaires.  What  is  a  title 
without  physical  vitality  ?  What's  a  million  without  the  prin 
ciple  of  longevity?  What  business  have  people  to  marry  and 
bring  into  the  world  a  lot  of  miserable,  short-lived  children — 
I  don't  care  how  pretty,  and  how  plump,  and  how  strong,  ap 
parently — I  say  miserable  children,  who  will  grow  up  in  a  lot 
of  short-lived  adults  ?  what  right  have  they  to  do  it,  without  any 
regard  to  the  ultimate  regeneration  of  the  human  race  ?  There 
ought  to  be  laws  against  it ;  society  ought  to  make  laws 
against  it ;  it  ought  to  be  so — and  I  have  no  doubt  that  it  will 
be  so  in  time — that  a  poor,  plain  girl,  whose  grandfathers 
and  grandmothers  have  averaged  their  threescore-and-ten  all 
around,  will  be  as  much  sought  after  in  matrimony  as  a 
scrofulous  belle  with  two  or  three  millions  is  now.  And  what 
will  be  the  reply  of  a  considerate  father  to  one  of  your  short 
lived  young  fellows  who  comes  to  demand  his  consent  ?  '  Sir  ! 
you  have  deceived  my  daughter,  or  else  she  would  never  have 


NEVER  AGAIN.  669 

referred  you  to  me  ;  you  have  concealed  the  fact  from  her  that 
you  never  knew  a  grandfather  or  a  grandmother  ;  they  all 
died  before  you  were  born.  But,  worse,  sir,  your  father  was  a 
dyspeptic  all  his  life,  and  died  of  gout  in  the  stomach,  as  the 
doctors  call  it,  but  a  real  wearing  out  of  the  apparatus  ;  and 
your  mother  is  nearly  blind,  from  senile  atrophy  affecting  the 
crystalline  lens,  at  fifty.  I  make  no  measurements,  sir,  but  I 
can  see  at  a  glance  all  the  indications  are  against  you  ;  dis 
tance  between  the  parietals  ;  distance  between  the  nasal  sul- 
cus  and  the  orifice  of  the  ear  ;  distance  of  said  orifice  below  a 
circle  cutting  the  head  through  the  eyebrows  and  the  occipi 
tal  protuberance  ;  circumference  of  the  chest,  combined  with 
length  of  trunk,  showing  the  space  occupied  by  the  respiratory 
organs  and  the  chylopoetic  viscera — all — all  are  against  you. 
I  am  very  sorry,  sir,  but  I  cannot  give  you  my  daughter.  I 
don't  like  your  constitution — it  is  a  deception  and  a  fraud  ! 
Morally,  that  is  not  your  fault,  at  least  so  long  as  you  keep 
single ;  but,  physically,  it  is  an  insuperable  objection.  You 
are,  I  know,  a  young  man  of  excellent  character,  and  at 
present  in  apparently  vigorous  health  ;  you  have  a  good  so 
cial  position  and  an  immense  estate,  but,  sir,  all  that  is  as 
nothing  when  the  question  comes  to  be  looked  at  in  the 
light  of  our  duties  to  humanity,  and  the  obligation  that  rests 
upon  every  one  to  make  any  sacrifices  for  the  physical  regener 
ation  and  improvement  of  the  human  race.  I  cannot,  sir,  give  my 
consent,  and  I  know  that  my  daughter  will  fully  concur  with  me, 
when  I  explain  the  reasons  for  my  decision.'  That's  the  way 
they'll  talk,  and  until  it  comes  to  that,  there  is  not  much  hope 
for  any  great  improvement  in  society,  and  progress  of  all 
kinds  must  continue  infinitesimally  slow." 

Mrs.  Shippen  was  not  accustomed  to  pay  much  attention 
to  the  old  gentleman's  tirades  ;  she  was  busy  sipping  her 
coffee,  and  at  intervals  intently  studying  the  long  list  of 
chamber-maids  wanting  places  in  the  Herald.  What  is  the 
improvement  and  regeneration  of  the  human  race,  to  a  house 
keeper  whose  latest  acquisitions  in  the  menial  line  have  just 
tuined  out  perfect  specimens  of  Irish  depravity,  and,  in  ad- 


670  NEVER  AGAIN. 

dition,  had  heightened  an  excited  sense  of  their  wickedness 
by  a  notice  to  quit  ?  The  regeneration  and  improvement  of 
servants  is  the  great  thing — something  that  will  elevate 
menial  service  into  the  region  of  the  fine  arts,  and  enable  us  to 
secure  all  the  talents  and  all  the  virtues,  with  the  highest 
intellectual  culture,  for  about  fifteen  dollars  a  month.  Ah! 
if  our  ladies  would  only  look  into  Plautus  and  Terence, 
and  see  how  old  the  evil — a  rascally  servant — really  is,  it 
might  soothe  their  feelings  somewhat.  It  might  mitigate  their 
honest  indignation  to  know  that  Mrs.  Cassius  and  Mrs.  Cato 
and  Miss  Scipio  suffered  in  the  same  manner,  and  that  the 
trouble  is  so  old  and  so  universal  that  it  is  hardly  worth 
while  to  waste  any  temper  upon  it.  Madame  De  Stael  says 
that  when  you  see  two  German  ladies  with  their  heads  to 
gether  in  confidential  confab,  you  may  safely  conclude  that 
the  subject  of  conversation  is  the  iniquities  of  their  ser 
vants.  While  in  many  things  our  ladies  may  properly 
look  to  Germany  for  an  example,  would  it  not  be  about  as 
well  that,  in  this  thing,  they  studied  the  habits  of  German 
ladies  as  a  warning?  At  any  rate,  it  does  sometimes  seem 
to  the  male  human — who  perhaps,  however,  has  no  right  to 
speak  or  think  at  all  on  the  subject — that  it  would  be  right 
to  ask  themselves  where  they  would  be,  in  the  matter  of 
servants,  were  it  not  for  the  Irish  immigration ;  and  whether, 
having  caught  an  ignorant  class  and  degraded  it  to  menial 
service,  they  have  a  right  to  expect  it  to  produce  in  any 
great  abundance  the  most  exalted  specimens  of  fidelity, 
truthfulness,  devotion,  unselfishness,  and  general  moral 
worth ;  and  whether  it  would  not  be  as  well  to  abate  some 
what  of  general  vituperation  until  the  mistress  can  fairly 
show  the  world  that  she  herself  has  mounted  a  step  or  two 
on  the  ladder  of  all  the  virtues. 

Uncle  Shippen  finished  his  monologue,  and,  owing  to  the 
preoccupation  of  Madam  with  more  important  subjects, 
was  suffered  to  seize  his  hat  and  get  out  of  the  street  door 
without  the  usual,  Pish  !  Pshaw  !  Nonsense !  with  which, 
according  to  the  old  gentleman,  all  profound  philosophic 
lucubrations  are  ever  received  by  the  feminine  mind. 


NEVER    AGAIN.  671 

He  found  Mr.  Ledgeral  at  home,  and  at  once  broached 
the  subject.  Quite  to  his  astonishment,  Mr.  Ledgeral  seemed 
disposed  to  take  the  same  view  of  the  case. 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  said  Mr.  Ledgeral,  "and  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  that  it  won't  do.  I  can  see  that  Helen  is 
not  at  all  disposed  to  accept  the  Count,  and  I  am  not  one  to 
attempt  to  force  her  into  a  match  against  her  inclinations, 
merely  for  the  sake  of  family  or  wealth  or  worldly  position.  Oh, 
no  !  it  would  be  some  much  more  mighty  consideration  that 
would  induce  me  to  use  my  parental  authority  and  influence 
as  against  her  own  sentiments  and  judgment." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  uttered  no  falsehood,  and  he  intended  no 
deception  ;  but  he  continued  to  impose  upon  himself — a  very 
happy  result  often  of  fine  sentiments  boldly  uttered.  He 
almost  plumed  himself  upon  the  fact  that  it  was  only  the 
mightiest  consideration — a  matter  of  more  than  life  and  death 
— that  had  actuated  him. 

"  I  have  decided  in  my  own  mind,"  he  continued,  "  that 
the  affair  can  go  no  further ;  but  do  you  know,  I  have  not 
dared  to  speak  a  word  about  it  to  your  sister.  She  will  be  so 
disappointed." 

"Well,  I  am  not  afraid  of  her,"  said  Uncle  Shippen. 
"  Let's  have  her  in  here.  I'll  soon  settle  the  matter  with 
her,"  and  the  speaker  summoned  Joseph. 

"  Yes,  sah,  Missis  Ledgeral  is  still  in  de  breakfast-room. 
I  tell  her,  sir,"  and  the  old  man  shuffled  across  the  hall  with 
an  unusually  puzzled  expression  of  face. 

"  I  guess  der's  gwine  to  happen  someting  in  dis  house.  I 
can't  'spect  what  it  is,  but  I  guess  it's  all  'bout  dat  Count. 
Ki !  I  wish  de  dam  furrener  had  stayed  in  his  own  country. 
Miss  Helen,  she  hasn't  look  well  ebber  since  de  Dutchman 
been  sneaking  round  here." 

Mrs.  Ledgeral  answered  the  summons,  and  joined  the  two 
gentlemen  in  the  library,  not  without  misgivings  as  to  the 
subject  of  discussion.  She  knew  her  brother  well  enough  to 
know  that  he  would  oppose  the  match — in  fact,  he  had  more 
than  once  intimated  as  much — but  she  knew,  as  she  supposed, 


672  NEVER   AGAIN. 

that  Mr.  Ledgeral  was  very  much  in  favor  of  it,  and  she  was 
not  going  to  give  way  to  anything  that  Uncle  Shippen  could 
say,  although  in  conclusion  he  put  in  one  of  his  heaviest 
arguments. 

"  You  know,  Sis,  that  we  have  made  Helen  as  much  our 
own  child  as  if  she  was  born  to  us ;  we  have  adopted  her,  in 
fact ;  she  is  to  be  my  heiress  ;  but  I  tell  you  what,  it  will  go 
very  much  against  the  grain  if  any  of  my  money  is  to  go  where 
it  will  not  assist  in  the  physical  improvement  and  regenera 
tion  of  the  human  race." 

"  I  wish,"  replied  Mrs.  Ledgeral,  with  a  contemptuous 
curl  of  her  lip,  "  I  wish,  my  dear  brother,  that  you  would 
stop  that  nonsensical  talk  about  the  improvement  of  the 
human  race.  At  any  rate,  there  is  no  use  of  wasting  any  of 
it  upon  me.  My  husband  will  tell  you  that  the  match  is  a 
splendid  one  in  every  way,  and  that  he — " 

Mr.  Ledgeral  raised  his  hand.  "  I  grant  you,  my  dear," 
he  said,  "  that  under  certain  circumstances  the  match  would 
be  a  most  eligible  one,  but  I  have  altered  my  mind  in  relation 
to  it.  I  am  convinced  that  it  is  distasteful  to  Helen,  and  I 
no  longer  wish  to  press  her  to  it." 

Mrs.  Ledgeral  was  dumb  for  a  moment  with  astonishment. 
After  all  the  anxiety  he  had  expressed  ;  after  having  been 
pushed  up  herself  at  his  instance,  and  now,  such  a  sudden 
change  !  it  was  the  most  unaccountable  fickleness  1  And 
then,  after  all  the  preparations  she  had  begun  to  make ;  all  the 
little  intimations  she  had  suffered  to  escape  her,  and  all  the 
reports  and  congratulations,  and  no  grand  wedding  after  all ! 
No  splendid  wedding  presents,  no  dazzling  display  of  soup- 
tureens,  and  tea-sets,  and  butter-boats,  and  fish-knives — not 
even  a  few  paper-cutters,  or  inkstands,  or  salad-forks  ;  no 
crowded  church ;  no  long  array  of  bridesmaids  and  grooms 
men  ;  no  embodiment  of  elegant  divinity  in  snowy  surplices  ;  no 
muttered  whispers — "  How  lovely,  how  stylish  ; "  no  notices 
in  the  weekly  Upper-ten  or  the  daily  Smoucher  of  a  marriage 
in  high  life  ;  no  sweeping  down  the  aisle  with  the  proud  con 
sciousness  that  all  eyes  are  winking  with  envy  at  the  mother- 


NEVER    AGAIN.  673 

in-law  of  a  monstrously  rich  and  veritable  Count ;  no  music  ; 
no  flowers  ;  no  Brown  :  no  anything  !  Oh,  it  was  too  bad  for 
any  fashionable  female  heart !  How  could  she  meet  the  gaze 
of  the  public  ?  Why,  she  would  be  ashamed  to  look  even 
Mrs.  Struggles  in  the  face ! 

Joseph  entered  the  room  at  this  moment  with  a  letter 
which  the  postman  had  just  left.  As  the  superscription 
caught  Mr.  Ledgeral's  eye  he  started,  snatched  the  letter  from 
the  salver,  and  with  a  slight  bow  to  his  wife  and  brother-in-law 
tore  open  the  envelope.  A  second  note  was  folded  within  the 
first.  "  Business — something  private,  of  course,"  thought  Mr. 
Ledgeral,  and  he  slipped  it  quietly  one  side.  He  ran  his  eye 
over  the  contents  of  the  first. 

Mrs.  Ledgeral  was  not  one  to  give  up  anything  she  had 
set  her  heart  upon  without  a  struggle,  and  before  he  had 
finished  his  note,  she  turned  to  her  husband:  "  You  two  gentle 
men,"  she  observed  somewhat  sharply,  "  have  come  to  a  deci 
sion  rather  suddenly,  it  seems  to  me.  Permit  me  to  observe 
that  in  a  matter  of  this  kind  I  have  something  to  say." 

"  Just  so,  Sis,"  exclaimed  Uncle  Shippen,  "  that  is  the 
reason  we  sent  for  you.  I  know  you  don't  care  anything 
for  the  physical  regeneration  of  the  human  race,  but  I  know 
you  do  for  your  daughter's  happiness." 

"  And  who  should  know  better  what  will  conduce  to  her 
happiness  than  I  ? "  interrupted  Mrs.  Ledgeral.  "  I  have  all 
along  consulted  her  in  this  matter.  You  must  not  forget  that 
she  has  some  rights ;  and  as  to  the  Count,  you  seem  to  leave 
him  out  of  the  question  entirely." 

"  Well,  he  has  thrust  himself  into  it,  and  pretty  effectually 
too,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Ledgeral.  "  This  note  is  from  him,  and 
mostly  upon  this  subject ;  I'll  read  the  essential  part  of  it  for 
you.  After  giving  a  short  account  of  his  trip,  and  the  results 
of  his  first  buffalo-hunt,  he  says :  '  I  come  now  to  the  chief 
object  of  my  letter.  Distance,  travel,  the  soothing  influence 
of  new  scenes,  the  excitements  of  wild  life,  have,  as  it  were, 
purified  my  mental  vision  from  the  mists  of  passion.  I  look 
back,  and  see  that  I  was  very  wrong  in  pressing  for  an  an 
43 


674  NEVER    AGAI.Y. 

swer  to  my  demand  for  your  daughter's  hand.  I  won't  say  that 
the  demand  was  unwarranted  by  my  own  feelings.  Every 
sentiment  of  my  nature — pride,  vanity,  ambition — all  would 
have  been  gratified  by  a  favorable  answer  ;  all  except  a  natu 
ral  longing  for  a  full  return  to  passionate  affection.  That,  I 
now  see,  your  daughter  could  not  give  me.  I  ought  to  have 
seen  it  sooner  ;  I  ought  to  have  seen  the  '  No  '  in  her  hesita 
tion,  but  we  both  deprecated  a  hard  negative — she,  I  can 
readily  understand,  out  of  respect — out  of,  perhaps,  some  real 
liking  ;  out  of  consideration  for  the  feelings  of  an  honest  lover 
— I  out  of  the  hope  that  a  little  delay  might  result  in  an  affir 
mative.  It  is  now  time  that  I  treat  your  daughter  with  a  lit 
tle  less  egotism,  and  myself  with  a  little  more  honesty,  and  I 
have  therefore  to  say  that,  with  every  wish  for  Miss  Helen's 
happiness,  I  withdraw  from  the  position  of  suitor  for  her  hand. 
May  she  find  some  one  to  whom  she  can  say  'Yes'  with 
promptitude  and  fervor.  I  have  changed  my  mind  about  re 
turning  to  New  York  ;  I  have  determined  to  go  on  to  California. 
At  San  Francisco  I  shall  decide  whether  I  go  down  the  coast, 
perhaps  as  far  as  Peru  and  Chili,  or  whether  I  take  passage 
for  Japan,  and  so  on  to  China.  I  hope  some^  day  to  see  you 
again,  but  exactly  how  soon  it  is  impossible  now  to  determine. 
In  the  meantime  I  hope  you  will  be  willing  to  allow  our  affairs 
to  remain  upon  their  old  footing,  and  that  you  will  still  suffer 
me  to  enjoy  the  benefits  of  a  business  connection  which  was 
first  suggested  to  me  by  finding  among  my  father's  papers  the 
enclosed  letter,  which  I  take  this  opportunity  of  sending  to  you. 

"  P.  S. — I  have  almost  decided  to  make  some  heavy  invest 
ments  here,  and  I  shall  probably  have  to  draw  upon  you  for  a 
large  sum,  say  from  two  to  three  hundred  thousand  dollars. 
You  will  be  so  good  as  to  cash  my  securities  when  necessary 
to  put  yourself  in  funds  for  said  drafts." 

Here  was  an  end  to  all  further  discussion. 

Uncle  Shippen  jumped  up  from  his  seat,  and  rubbed  his 
hands  for  a  moment,  while  his  face  glowed  with  an  expression 
of  intense  delight. 

"  Splendid  fellow  !    by  Jove  !  "  he   exclaimed,  "  mentally, 


NEVER   AGAIN.  675 

morally,  and  socially ;  good-looking,  too  !  rather  a  fine  phy 
sique  at  first  glance,  but  vitality  weak,  and  the  principle  of 
longevity  absent.  What  a  pity  !  what  a  pity  !  " 

Mrs.  Ledgeral  looked  at  her  husband  inquiringly.  "  You 
too,"  she  said,  "  seem  to  be  satisfied  with  this  termination  of 
an  affair  that  three  days  ago  you  were  so  anxious  to  press  on. 
I  don't  understand  it." 

"  Bah !  Sis  ;  I  have  convinced  him,  as  I  could  convince 
you,  if  you  were  not  a  woman,  that  the  thing  would  not  do  ; 
it  was  against  common  sense  ;  it  was  contrary  to  the  plainest 
dictates  of  science  ;  it  was  a  flying  in  the  face  of  nature  ;  it 
was  a  neglect  of  our  duties  to  posterity ;  it  was  a  contempt 
of  humanity  in  general.  Of  course  he  is  pleased  ;  how  could 
he  help  but  be  pleased  ? — and  I  tell  you  what,  Sis,  if  you  had 
a  scientific  hair  in  your  head — I  don't  mean  gray  hairs,  for  I 
see  you  are  getting  quite  a  number  of  them — but  a  real  scien 
tific  hair,  you  would  be  pleased  too.  Go  now,  and  tell  Helen 
that  the  thing  is  all  up,  and  you'll  see  that  she'll  be  delighted 
most  of  all." 

"  Perhaps  !  I  don't  know  ;  Helen  is  such  a  queer  girl ;  it 
is  possible  that  her  affections  are  more  deeply  interested  than 
she  has  let  us  see."  Mrs.  Ledgeral  spoke  in  a  very  subdued 
voice,  as  she  stood  in  a  hesitating  attitude,  with  her  hand  on 
the  door.  s 

"  Nonsense,  Sis  !  go  and  tell  her.  I'd  see  her,  and  tell 
her  myself,  but  I  have  an  engagement,  and  am  behind  time  ; 
go  and  say  so  to  her ;  give  her  my  love,  and  tell  her  for  me 
that  she  will  have  an  opportunity  yet  of  contributing  to  the 
physical  regeneration  of  the  human  race.  She'll  be  delighted, 
you'll  see." 

Mrs.  Ledgeral  closed  the  door,  and  began  slowly  mount 
ing  the  stairs,  very  slowly.  It  suddenly  seemed  as  if  the  steps 
were  now  higher  or  steeper  than  usual.  Mrs.  Ledgeral  knew 
that  that  could  not  be  •  it  must  be  then,  that  her  slight  increase 
of  fat  was  beginning  to  tell  ;  but  then  it  was  so  little  ;  why  even 
the  belt  of  last  year's  dress  would  almost  hook,  and  Mrs. 
Struggles  had  assured  her  that  she  never  would  have  noticed 


676  NEVER   AGAIN. 

it.  No  ;  the  weight,  Mrs.  Ledgeral  felt,  pressed  upon  her 
mind  and  heart,  rather  than  her  body.  The  cares  of  fashion 
able  life  she  had  hitherto  borne  jauntily  ;  the  duties  of  society 
she  had  always  performed  easily  and  faithfully  ;  all  the  more 
so,  perhaps,  from  never  having  inquired  too  strictly  whether 
"  position  "  did  not  entail  responsibilities  beyond  her  set — 
responsibilities  extending  to  society  in  the  large  acceptation 
of  the  word — not  that  she  was  wholly  without  some  sense  of 
obligation  in  this  respect,  but  she  never  allowed  it  to  worry 
her  ;  she  rather  admired  a  high  standard  of  refinement  and 
culture,  and  social  morality,  but  she  was  not  going  to  put  her 
self  out  in  any  way  to  correct  the  vices,  o.r  elevate  the  tone 
of  society.  There  was  not  much  of  the  reformer,  and  nothing 
of  the  martyr,  in  her  composition.  "  Let  the  world  wag,"  had 
always  been  practically  her  motto,  but  now  !  well,  it  really  did 
seem  as  if  the  world  did  not  wag  so  smoothly  as  it  used  to. 
There  was  this  affair  of  Helen's,  and  the  ill  health  of  Mr. 
Ledgeral,  and  the  careless  observation  of  her  maid,  apropos  of 
a  corset-lacing,  that  some  ladies  lose  their  figure  very  early, 
and  that  brutal  remark  of  her  brother's  about  gray  hairs. 

There  is  a  sentimenfal  shock  at  the  sight  of  the  first  gray 
hair,  which  has  often  been  noticed,  and  much  good  philoso 
phizing  and  moralizing  indulged  in  thereunto  ;  but  it  soon 
passes,  to  be  succeeded  in  a  few  years  by  a  much  more  lively 
agitation  of  feeling,  a  much  broader  and  clearer  opening  of 
consciousness  to  the  fact  that  people  will  grow  old  if  they  live 
long  enough.  This  much  more  important  epoch  has  been 
never  properly  distinguished  and  noted.  In  many  cases  it 
comes  suddenly,  and,  very  happily,  in  more  cases,  it  passes 
rapidly.  A  number  of  causes  conspire  to  produce  it,  but  in 
general  the  most  efficient  is  a  touch  of  dyspepsia,  occurring 
just  at  that  time  when  it  is  perceived  that  the  gray  hairs  have 
become  too  numerous  for  further  eradication,  and  the  awful 
question — to  dye,  or  not  to  dye — stares  one  in  the  face.  A 
sense  of  general  breaking  down — or  breaking  up — either  or 
both  ;  a  conviction  that  old  age  is  an  actual  possibility  ;  a  per 
ception  that  we  have  at  last  turned  the  summit  of  life's  road, 


NEVER  AGAIN.  677 

and  that  there  is  nothing  before  us  but  a  down-grade,  comes 
upon  many  of  us  all  at  once ;  and  for  a  while  a  triste,  morne 
mist  of  sentiment  envelops  every  thought  and  feeling,  and  dead 
ens  to  a  dark  neutral  tint  the  most  brilliant  colors  of  life.  We 
can  do  nothing  but  wonder  either  that  age  should  have  stolen 
upon  us  so  silently,  or  should  have  rushed  upon  us  so  rapidly. 
But  yesterday,  we  were  as  young  as  the  youngest,  or  at  least 
as  young  as  people  with  a  proper  contempt  for  mere  youth 
should  wish  to  be  ;  to-day,  we  wonder  at  ourselves  for  being 
so  old. 

How  long  this  phase  of  feeling  lasts  depends  somewhat 
on  circumstances,  but  much  more  upon  temperament.  We 
advance  along  the  road  a  little  further — two,  three,  half  a 
dozen,  or  a  dozen  years  ;  why  it's  nothing  but  a  dead  level,  or 
if  the  grade  is  a  little  down,  the  inclination  is  so  slight  that 
there  is  not  the  least  necessity  for  touching  the  brakes.  While 
the  fit  lasted  we  were  filled  with  wonder  and  disgust  at  find 
ing  ourselves  so  old ;  now  we  are  filled  with  wonder  and 
delight  at  finding  ourselves  still  so  young. 

The  reader  must  not  understand  us  as  saying  that  this 
process  of  thought  and  sentiment  is  realized  in  all  cases. 
In  some  the  undulation  of  feeling  is  so  slight,  or  so  sloping 
and  prolonged,  as  not  to  be  distinctly  perceived.  Some  are 
so  stupidly  egotistical  as  never  to  know  that  they  have  grown 
old ;  and  some  who  find  early  the  grasshopper  a  burden, 
persist  in  carrying  their  load  to  the  last.  Happy,  then,  are 
those  to  whom  the  conviction  of  advancing  age  comes 
as  a  sharp,  short  crisis,  which,  once  past,  enables  them  to 
pursue  a  gently-sloping  down-hill  path  of  life,  in  vigorous 
contentment ;  and  with  thankfulness  for  what  is  left,  rather 
than  regret  for  what  is  gone  ! 

Mrs.  Ledgeral  had  reached  this  point,  and  that  was 
what  was  the  matter  with  her,  as  she  slowly  ascended  the 
two  flights  of  stairs  to  Helen's  room. 

A  visit  from  her  mother  was  something  unusual,  espe 
cially  so  early  in  the  morning.  It  indicated  something  of 
interest;  perhaps  important  news  from  her  sister,  or  some- 


678  NEVER    AGAIN. 

thing  wonderful  from  Worth  or  Madame  Volorem,  but  as  she 
caught  sight  of  her  mother's  face,  she  saw  in  an  instant  that 
whatever  it  was,  it  was  something  dreadful. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Ledgeral,  dropping 
herself  languidly  on  to  a  lounge,  "  your  dawdling  has  come 
to  a  pretty  end  !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean,  mother? " 

"  Why,  I  mean  that,  in  this  affair  of  the  Count,  your  hesi 
tation — your  putting  off  a  decided  answer — your  very  queer 
conduct  generally,  has  had  its  proper  result ;  and  I  must  say, 
as  far  as  the  Count  is  concerned,  I  do  not  blame  him.  No 
man  of  any  spirit  could  do  anything  else,  and  I  only  wonder 
that  he  should  have  gone  as  far  as  he  has,  under  such  treat 
ment,  which  I  must  say  has  been  very  unlady-like,  and  very 
improper !  " 

"  My  dearest  mamma,  what  do  you  mean  ? "  with  an  in 
creased  emphasis  on  the  do. 

"Why  I  mean  that  you  have  foolishly  thrown  away  the 
chance  of  making  the  most  splendid  match  that  a  girl  could 
make.  The  Count  is  off!  Ah,  you  need  not  look  so  as 
tonished  and  distressed  about  it ;  what  else  could  you  expect  ? 
You  could  not  think  that  he  was  going  to  stand  bowing  and 
begging  forever.  You  couldn't  believe  that  a  man  of  rank 
and  wealth,  and  good  looks  and  accomplishments,  is  going 
to  let  any  girl  shilly-shally  round  him  for  months.  Your 
father  has  just  received  a  letter  from  him.  He  gives  you 
up  !  You  have  lost  him  ! " 

"  Lost  him  ! "  exclaimed  Helen,  clasping  her  hands, 
while  her  big  eyes  opened  wide,  as  if  at  the  sight  of  some 
thing  frightful,  and  her  blanched  face  and  rigid  form  ex 
pressed  in  every  muscle  and  movement  the  height  of  fear 
and  despair.  "Lost  him  !  oh,  what  shall  I  do?  what  can  be 
done?"  she  cried  with  an  anguished  wail.  "Oh,  father, 
father,"  and,  suddenly  darting  by  her  mother,  she  rushed 
from  the  room. 

Dumbfounded  is  the  only  word  for  Mrs.  Ledgeral's  state  of 
mind.  Had  Helen  gone  crazy  ?  Well,  in  a  few  minutes,  and 


NEVER  AGAIN.  679 

before  she  could  recover  herself  sufficiently  to  descend  to  her 
room,  she  had  further  reason  to  ask  herself  the  question. 

Helen  flew  down  the  stairs  and  dashed  into  the  library, 
where  she  found  her  father,  who  had  just  bowed  Uncle  Ship- 
pen  from  the  house,  seated  at  his  table  and  preparing  to  open 
the  letter  enclosed  in  the  Count's  note. 

"  Oh,  father,  what  is  this,  what  is  this  news  of  the  Count  ? 
Can  nothing  be  done  ?  I  am  ready  to  say — do — anything!  Oh, 
father,  I  am  so  sorry,"  and  Helen  wrung  her  hands  excitedly. 
"  I  ought  to  have  acted  differently !  I  see  it  all  now  !  Oh ! 
what  shall  we  do  ? " 

"  Calm  yourself,  my  dear  daughter ;  there  is  no  reason  for 
this  excitement." 

"  But  the  secret,  father ;  our  secret!  Oh!  what  will  be 
come  of  you — of  us  ?  " 

"  Never  fear,  my  dear,"  and  Mr.  Ledgeral  put  his  arm  round 
his  daughter's  waist ;  "  never  fear.  The  danger  has  passed ; 
we  have  -  nothing  now  to  apprehend.  I  did  not  wish  that 
you  should  refuse  the  Count,  but  he  has  withdrawn,  himself. 
That  makes  all  the  difference  in  the  world;  don't  you 
see  it  does  ?  " 

Helen  did  see,  or  rather  thought  that  she  did.  "  Yes,  I 
suppose  so,"  she  replied,  "  but  are  you  sure  that  he  has  with 
drawn  and  that  you  are  perfectly  satisfied  ?  What  of  the  ruin, 
the  disgrace,  that  threatens  you — me — all  of  us  ?  " 

"  There  is  his  note,  and  a  very  nice  note,  too,"  replied  Mr. 
Ledgeral ;  "  and  I  can  assure  you  I  am  perfectly  satisfied. 
As  to  the  ruin  -  and  disgrace,  we  will  never  mention  the 
subject  again.  You  understand,  Helen  ?  What  has  passed 
between  us  is  to  be,  now  and  forever,  a  secret  that  must  never 
be  breathed  in  the  faintest  whisper  to  any  one." 

Helen  could  hardly  understand  it,  but,  luckily,  she  did  not 
want  to  understand  it.  It  was  enough  to  feel  that  a  load  of  mis 
ery  had  been  suddenly  lifted  and  cast  aside.  The  sense  of 
freedom  sent  an  ecstatic  thrill  of  joy  through  every  nerve,  and, 
under  the  impulse,  she  threw  her  arms  around  her  father's  neck 
and  sobbed  upon  his  bosom. 


680  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"  But,  my  dear,"  continued  Mr.  Ledgeral,  disengaging  her 
arms  and  looking  significantly  in  her  face,  "  I  am  not  go 
ing  to  be  cheated  out  of  a  son-in-law  ;  your  mother's  wed 
ding  arrangements  will  have  to  be  deferred  a  year  or  two — 
that's  all.  Oh  !  you  need  not  look  so  frightened  ;  I  do  not 
intend  to  ask  you  to  do  anything  against  your  will  again.  I 
have  proved  your  affection  for  me  ;  I  am  not  going  to  stand 
in  the  way  of  your  affection  for  some  one  else,  however  poor 
he  may  be." 

Mr.  Ledgeral  nodded  his  head.  Helen  was  about  to  ask 
an  explanation,  but  suddenly  paused,  and,  fearful  of  tell-tale 
blushes,  flitted  from  the  room  without  stopping  to  ask  any 
further  questions. 

"  Ki !  what's  dat  ? "  exclaimed  Joseph,  as  he  heard  the  crep 
itation  of  muslin  skirts  and  his  eye  caught  the  flash  of  a  pique 
train  that  illuminated  the  staircase  for  an  instant.  "  Ki ! 
dat's  de  way,  two  steps  at  a  time.  I  ain't  a  seen  Miss  Helen 
do  dat  dis  monstrous  long  while — most  a  six  months, — two 
steps  at  a  time !  ki !  "  and  the  old  fellow  stopped  and  delib 
erately  gave  a  short  double-shuffle,  accompanied  by  a  low, 
chuckling  laugh.  "  Two  steps  at  a  time  !  Dey  say  it  ain't 
lady-like  and  genteel.  Dat's  bekase  dey  can't  do  it.  Dey 
stay  out  so  late  at  night,  and  dey  dance  de  Jurman  so  much, 
and  dey  drink  so  much  Champagne,  and  eat  so  much  goose 
libbers  dey  get  kind  o'  weak  in  de  ankles,  and  dey  get  de 
rumantics  in  de  knees — I  say  it's  de  rumantics  in  de 
knees,  but  Misser  Whoppers,  he  say  de  cause  is  dey  get 
de  romantics  in  de  head ;  howsomeber,  dey  can't  go  up 
de  stairs  two  steps  at  a  time,  and  dat  is  de  reason 
why  dey  is  so  dam  genteel.  Oh  !  you  can't  fool  dis  chile  no 
how.  I  tell  you  what,  honey,  dis  ere  nigger  ain't  been  a 
member  ob  s'ciety  more  nor  half  ob  a  century  for  noting.  But 
I  must  go  and  look  after  dat  darkey  wid  de  silber.  He  ain't 
wurth  chucks,  dat  'manci pared  cuss  ain't.  If  I  had  known 
dat  he  warn't  a  real  silber  man  ;  dat  he  was  most  a  good  for 
noting  but  electrom-plate,  he  nebber  should  hab  come  into 
dis  house,"  and  Joseph  waddled  and  shuffled  off  into  his  den. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  68 1 

"  Why  !  Helen,  what  is  the  matter  ? "  exclaimed  Mrs, 
Ledgeral,  as  Helen  flew  into  the  room  and  gave  her  mother 
a  hearty  embrace ;  "  are  you  crazy  ?  There,  there,  you  have 
crumpled  my  collar  out  of  all  shape,  and  just  see  how  you 
have  mussed  my  cap-ribbons  !  What  is  the  matter  with  you ; 
are  you  crazy  ? " 

"  Yes,  almost,  with  joy.  Oh,  mamma  dear,  I  am  so 
happy ! " 

"  Happy  !  and  a  moment  ago  you  were  in  the  greatest  dis 
tress.  Oh,  Helen,  Helen,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Ledgeral,  starting 
with  a  new  fear,  "you  must  calm  yourself;  you  must  lie  down 
and  compose  yourself,  and  I  will  go  and  send  for  the  doctor ; 
and  I'll  get  you  an  assafcetida  pill,  because  you  know  if  you 
should  have — have — the  hysterics,  my  dear." 

"  Oh,  pshaw !  my  dear  mamma,  how  can  you  say  such  a 
thing?  I  have  the  hysterics  !  I  never  felt  less  like  it  in  my 
life  ;  and  if  you  send  for  Dr.  Petcalf,  he  shan't  come  into  this 
room.  I'll  go  downstairs  to  see  him  in  full  dress,  and  I'll 
make  him  talk  nothing  but  gossip.  He  shan't  feel  my  pulse 
or  look  at  my  tongue,  and  he  shan't  even  mention  a  tincture 
comp.  of  any  kind  ;  and  if  he  does,  I  won't  take  a  drop." 

Mrs.  Ledgeral  was  fain  to  take  her  departure  without  car 
rying  out  her  threat  about  Dr.  Petcalf  or  the  assafcetida  pill, 
but  it  was  with  mingled  feelings  of  fear  and  wonder.  There 
was  a  sense  of  something  mysterious,  something  in  connection 
with  both  husband  and  daughter  which  she  could  not  compre 
hend  or  explain. 

How  many  of  these  little  domestic  mysteries  are  all  around 
us !  Often  we  cannot  penetrate  them,  and  often  we  think  we 
have  opened  them  when  we  have  only  been  fumbling  with  the 
wrong  key. 

Perhaps  Mrs.  Ledgeral  would  have  grasped  the  solution 
had  she  turned  back  after  leaving  the  room  and  found  Helen 
seated  at  her  desk — the  drawer  of  her  secret  treasures  un 
locked,  and  a  manuscript  lying  before  her,  of  which  she  was 
reading,  with  every  mark  of  deep  emotion,  the  concluding 
lines : 


682  NEVER  AGAIN. 

"  Oh,  Spirit  of  Night  ! 
Nor  pride  nor  passion  can  withstand  thy  power  ; 

And  now  and  ever, 
My  hapless  love,  thy  ebon  hours  shall  measure 

To  me  as  richest  treasure." 


It  was  an  old  and  somewhat  worn  sheet  of  note  paper,  dis 
colored  by  age  and  dust,  and  evidently  of  a  foreign  manufac 
ture,  that  fell  from  the  envelope  in  Mr.  Ledgeral's  hands,  and 
in  it  a  small  slip  of  paper  in  the  handwriting  of  the  Count 
In  this  last  there  were  but  a  few  words,  as  follows  : 

"  It  must  be  that  the  accompanying  letter  belongs  by  right 
to  Mr.  Ledgeral.  After  some  inquiry,  I  have  satisfied  myself 
that,  although  the  name  of  Courtlandt  is,  both  as  a  Christian 
and  surname,  not  uncommon  in  America,  there  is  no  one  bear 
ing  the  name  but  Mr.  Courtlandt  Ledgeral  to  whom  this  letter 
could  have  been  addressed.  If  I  am  wrong,  the  letter  can  be 
returned  to  me.  It  was  found  among  the  papers  of  my  father, 
the  Count  Albert  von  Isenthal.  The  writer  of  it,  my  aunt, 
died  but  a  few  years  since  in  a  convent  near  Pesth." 

"  H.  V.  I." 

Count  Albert  von  Isenthal!  and  the  Countess  Julia! — 
his  aunt!  Mr.  Ledgeral  uttered  a  deep  sigh  of  relief,  and  un 
folded  the  letter,  which  was  without  date  or  address  : 

"  Why  do  I  write  to  thee,  when  I  know  I  shall  not  have 
the  courage — or  shall  I  say  the  weakness — to  send  thee  the 
letter  ?  Why  do  I  write  to  thee,  oh  Courtlandt, — why  do  I 
turn  to  thee  in  this  my  hour  of  agony,  when  I  know  that  thou 
canst  do  nothing  for  me  ?  God  knows.  Perhaps  it  is  because 
my  heart  is  so  sick  of  the  grief  that  fills  it  that  anything  that 
brings  up  the  memory  of  such  passionate  emotions  as  modu 
lated  its  beats  in  those  happy  days  at  Baden  is  a  relief;  per 
haps  because  it  soothes  me  to  thus  stare  my  afflictions  more 
fully  in  the  face.  I  expect,  I  hope  nothing  from  thee  !  Five 
years  have  passed — no  man's  love  ever  bridged  such  a  gulf.  I 
know  thy  history,  although  I  have  never  heard  thy  name  men 
tioned.  Tiiou  hast  ranged  thyself — thou  hast  settled  down — 
thou  hast  become  a  man  of  family — married  some  proper 
femme  de  menage  possibly,  and  a  reminder  of  that  time  of  mad 
ness  would  be  an  impertinence — would  it  not  ? 


NEVER  AGAIN.  '    683 

"  But  perhaps  I  am  mistaken.  Thou  still  thinkest  of  me  ? 
Thou  must — how  canst  thou  help  it  ?  I  first  taught  thee  that 
thou  hadst  a  heart ; — thou  canst  not  blame  me.  I  was  an  un 
willing  teacher,  and  I  myself  learned  the  lesson  for  the  first 
time — yes,  for  the  first  and  last  time.  Thou  canst  not  then 
have  forgotten  me  !  Forgotten  me  !  I  were  a  fool  to  think  so  ! 
'Twould  be  a  treason  to  love.  'Twould  be  to  strip  my  pride 
of  all  excuses,  and  wrap  myself  in  a  mantle  of  disgrace  and 
shame  forever.  I  will  not  think  so  ! 

"  Know,  thou,  that  I  am  desolate  and  alone— oh,  how  des 
olate  !  First,  my  husband,  Count  Joseph  von  Isenthal.  Thou 
wilt  say  that  the  blow  was  not  severe,  but  then,  my  child,  my 
beautiful  boy, — oh,  couldst  thou  have  seen  him  !  But  God 
could  not  pardon  the  crime  of  which  he  would  have  been  the 
agent;  He  could  not  pardon  the  sins  of  his  mother; — He 
took  him  away  and  delivered  me  over  to  the  tender  mercies 
of  my  most  bitter  enemy.  For  the  lost  inheritance  I  care 
nothing.  It  was  a  weight — a  horrible  load — a  reproach  and  a 
remorse  while  my  child  lived ;  and  now  that  he  is  gone,  the 
loss  is  less  than  nothing.  Rank,  state,  fortune !  I  hate  them. 
I  am  wrong — I  despise  them  too  much  to  hate  them.  My 
heart  has  no  room  for  hate.  I  only  ask  to  forget  them.  I 
take  myself  away  from  this  horrible  place.  Thank  God  for  a 
retreat  in  my  own  country,  where  I  can  shut  out  the  world  for 
ever  !  In  time — if  I  live — tears  and  prayers  may  expiate  my 
sin ;  now  I  have  no  tears.  I  cannot  pray  !  alas,  I  cannot  re 
pent  !  God  forgive  me  !  But  that,  I  feel,  is  a  mere  phrase. 
My  only  hope  is  that  time  will  teach  me  to  put  meaning  in 
the  words.  All  that  I  can  ask  of  Him  now  in  sincerity  is 
that  He  will  bless  you,  and  send  me  soon  the  only  relief  for 
heart-ache  like  mine.  I  know  that  it  will  not  be  long.  I  feel 
so  sure  of  that,  that  I  can  venture  to  say  what  I  would  not 
otherwise  say,  and  that  is,  that  if  ever  thy  wanderings  should 
bring  thee  to  Pesth,  thou  will  find,  by  inquiries  in  the 
neighborhood  of  that  city,  my  grave  in  the  longed-for 
resting-place  of  JULIA  VON  ISENTHAL." 

Lost  in  thought,  Mr.  Ledgeral  sat  with  this  letter  in  his 
hand  for  more  than  an  hour,  occasionally  re-reading  it  until 
every  word  was  cut  into  his  brain  with  the  distinctness  of  an 
antique  intaglio.  And  what  a  host  of  thoughts  and  feelings 
it  evoked !  Unlocking  the  most  secret  chambers  of  the  mind, 
vivifying  dead  and  buried  memories,  and  lighting  up  images 
that  had  almost  faded  out  in  the  dim  distance — at  one  mo- 


684  NEVER  AGAIN. 

ment  it  stared  at  him  like  a  transcript  from  the  great  book, 
and  the  next  floated  before  his  eyes  in  a  mist  of  tender,  deli 
cious,  melancholy  sentiment,  the  like  of  which,  more  than  any 
thing  else,  makes  us  elderly  fellows  sensible  of  a  very,  very 
mysterious  providence  that  so  orders  it  that  some  things  are 
so  very  wrong  and  yet  so  very  nice. 

Joseph  announced  lunch.  Mr.  Ledgeral  needed  no  lunch, 
but  it  was  getting  a  little  chilly ;  Joseph  might  send  some  one 
to  light  the  fire.  Soon  the  fire  was  blazing  brightly,  and  still 
Mr.  Ledgeral  mused  and  mused. 

At  length  he  rose  from  the  seat,  and,  after  turning  the  key 
in  the  study  door,  unlocked  the  secret  drawer  of  his  desk  and 
took  out  the  reddish  golden  tress  that  we  saw  him  looking  at 
once  before.  He  examined  it  carefully,  caressingly.  He 
held  it  in  his  hand  while  he  deliberately  re-read  the  letter,  and 
then  advancing  to  the  fire,  flung  both  the  tress  and  letter  into 
the  bright  blaze.  He  watched  till  the  last  flash  and  sparkle 
had  gone  out.  There  was  something  propitiatory  in  the  act. 
It  was  a  sacrifice  to  marital  right,  to  propriety,  to  respectabil 
ity — to  position  as  a  man,  as  a  great  merchant,  and  as  a  ves 
try  man  of  St.  Cyprian's.  Never  again,  no,  never  again, 
should  that  door  of  his  heart  be  opened,  even  to  his  own  con 
sciousness.  That  book  was  closed — a  little  balance  against 
him  perhaps ;  but  what's  the  use  of  running  over  the  figures 
again  to  find  it.  Call  it  all  square.  Ah,  if  an  old  sinner's 
accounts  that  he  has  settled  so  satisfactorily  to  himself  never 
could  be  opened  again,  how  charming  it  would  be  ! 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

Something  beyond  Whoppers'  Comprehension — The  Captain's  Engage 
ment  announced — Madame  Steignitz  gives  her  Opinion  of  Helen. 

"  \  ~/l  7HAT  the  devil  does  this   mean?"  exclaimed  Mr. 

V  V  Whoppers,  as,  the  morning  after  he  and  Luther  re 
turned  to  town,  he  picked  up  and  opened  a  note  requesting 
the  pleasure  of  his  and  Mr.  Lansdale's  company  to  dinner 
that  very  day.  "  Is  the  sky  about  to  fall  ?  Is  the  millen 
nium  dawning  ?  "  and  Mr.  Whoppers  sat  down  and  put  his  fin 
ger  to  his  head  in  an  attitude  of  profound  reflection. 

Luther  took  the  note  and  read  it.  There  it  was,  plain 
enough  :  "  We  shall  all  be  happy  to  see  your  friend,  Mr.  Lans- 
dale.  Be  sure  and  insist  upon  his  coming  with  you."  There 
it  was,  quite  an  informal,  short  notice.  A  family  dinner  evi 
dently,  and  quite  emphatic  phraseology. 

"  Do  you  know,  Luther,  there  are  few  things  in  this  world 
that  I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Whoppers,  speaking  in  quite  a 
melancholy  tone.  "  I  have  studied  law ;  I  have  attended 
medical  lectures,  and  at  one  time  I  thought  of  going  into  the 
ministry,  and  got  myself  up  quite  strong  in  divinity  ;  I  was 
once  a  clerk  in  a  shipping-house,  and  once  I  took  a  stock  of 
dry-goods  out  to  Texas  and  got  cleaned  out  of  the  whole  in  less 
than  a  year ;  I  have  worked  on  a  farm,  shoved  a  jack-plane 
for  six  months,  and  have  set  type  with  my  own  hands, — in  a 
word,  I'm  editor  of  the  Universe.  What  I  don't  know,  I  don't 
really  estimate  to  be  worth  knowing,  but  hang  me  if  I  can 
make  out  the  meaning  of  this  thing.  It  surpasses  my  com 
prehension." 

And  well  it  might.     It  went  quite  beyond  the  comprehen- 


686  NEVER  AGAIN. 

sion  of  a  good  many  other  people,  Mrs.  Struggles  in  particu 
lar.  "  You  don't  tell  me,  dear  Carrie,  that  Mr.  Ledgeral  really 
intends  to  have  that  young  man  up  here  to  dinner  !  "  she  ex 
claimed. 

Mrs.  Ledgeral  gave  a  slight  affirmative  toss  of  the  chin,  as 
much  as  to  say  that  the  matter  had  passed  beyond  further  dis 
cussion. 

"  And  you  have  encouraged  the  idea  ? "  persisted  Mrs. 
Struggles. 

"  No,"  curtly  replied  Mrs.  Ledgeral  ;  "but  I  have  submit 
ted  to  it." 

"  Submitted  !  oh,  my  dear  !  and  after  all  the  fears  you 
have  had  about  him  ;  and  now  this  business  of  the  Count  has 
come  to  an  end  !  " 

Mrs.  Ledgeral  took  no  notice  of  the  remark.  She  was 
not  in  the  habit  of  attending  very  closely  to  any  observations 
from  Mrs.  Struggles,  and  in  this  case  her  mind  was  taken  up 
with  some  points  in  the  recent  conversation  she  had  had  with 
her  husband,  in  which,  although  she  had  by  no  means  learned 
the  complete  truth,  a  few  facts,  with  the  proper  glossing, 
with  which  a  clever  husband  always  knows  how  to  suit  them  to 
the  narrow  capacity  of  his  confiding  wife,  had  been  elicited. 
Mrs.  Ledgeral  had  arisen  from  the  discussion  not,  perhaps,  a 
much  wiser,  but  a  sadder  woman.  Not  the  slightest  suspicion 
of  any  moral  delinquency  on  his  part ;  but  that  terrible  mys 
tery  "  business."  No  woman  can  understand  that,  you  know. 
She  could  just  get  a  glimpse  of  the  awful  gulf  upon  the  edge 
of  which  she  had  been  unconsciously  standing,  but  she  had 
no  disposition  to  investigate  the  danger,  inasmuch  as  Mr.  Ledg 
eral  assured  her  that,  thanks  to  some  happy  arrangement 
with  some  unknown  capitalists,  involving  the  admission  of 
Luther  in  some  undefined  manner  to  a  partnership  in  the 
house,  the  danger  had  been  passed,  and  that  nothing  was  to  be 
apprehended  in  future  except,  perhaps,  for  a  year  or  two,  the 
necessity  of  some  slight  retrenchment  of  expenditure. 

"  What  is  society  coming  to  ?  "  thought  Mrs.  Struggles. 
"I  must  alter  my  manner  to  that  young  man.  Who  knows  ? 


NEPER   AGAIN.  687 

Helen  is  such  a  queer  girl ;  stranger  things  than  that  have 
happened,  and  if  they  should,  why  they  would  be  the  hand 
somest,  and  perhaps  the  most  fashionable,  young  couple  in  the 
city.  And,  after  all,  they  say  that  his  father  was  once  a  very 
fashionable  man,  and  that  is  something  in  these  days,  when 
society  is  getting  to  be  so  demoralized  and  so  many  common 
people  ?re  pushing  their  way  up  ;"  and  Mrs.  Struggles  gave 
the  usual  toss  of  her  head  with  which  whenever  her  favorite 
term  "shoddy"  arose  to  her  lips  she  threw  off,  as  it  were,  all 
remembrance  of  the  time  when  she  had  strolled  the  forlornest 
of  forlorn  nobodies  up  and  down  the  piazza'  at  Sharon. 
***** 

"  I  have  a  note  for  you,"  said  Miss  Jones,  addressing 
Luther,  after  breakfast,  and  slyly  pulling  it  out  from  some  of  the 
recesses  of  her  dress,  she  tendered  the  letter  with  her  plump 
hand,  upon  which  Luther  would  have  been  very  unobservant 
not  to  have  noticed  a  very  pretty  diamond  ring.  Others  had 
noticed  it,  too.  Miss  Billings  said  she  believed  that  foolish 
old  fellow  had  gone  and  spent  his  last  cent  for  it. 

"  Well,  it  don't  mean  anything,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Waldie. 
"  These  sailors  get  engaged  to  everybody  they  can  all  over 
the  world.  He'll  never  marry  her.  He's  not  such  a  fool  as 
to  go  and  marry  an  old  maid." 

"  Old  maid  !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Billings.  "  Well,  so  she  is. 
She's  thirty-seven  if  she's  a  day ;  but  I  don't  see  why  he 
shouldn't  marry  an  old  maid  as  well  as  to  marry  an  old  widow." 

"  Don't  -you,  my  dear?"  replied  Mrs.  Waldie,  smiling 
grimly,  but  softening  her  voice  to  its  sweetest  tones  ;  "  don't 
you  ?  Well,  that  is  because,  although  gracious  knows  you 
have  lived  long  enough,  you  never  had  any  experience." 

"  Experience  !  "  retorted  Miss  Billings.  "  Experience  in 
deed  !  I  hope  not.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  having  too  much 
experience — yes,  Mrs.  Waldie.  I  hope  it  may  never  be  my 
lot  to  hang  out  a  sign  in  the  matrimonial  market — '  Second 
hand  goods  for  sale — very  cheap.'  " 

"  Miss  Billings  !  "     The  tone  was  up  an  octave,  at  least. 

"  Mrs.  Waldie  !  "  and  a  corresponding  descent  of  the 
scale. 


688  NEVER  AGAIN. 

The  compression  of  feeling  was  awful.  A  passion  safety 
valve  would  have  indicated  a  hundred  pounds  pressure  to  the 
square  inch  at  least.  But  there  was  no  explosion.  Mrs. 
Waldie  opened  the  escape-pipe. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Billings,  I  really  didn't  mean  anything." 

"  Nor  I  either,  my  dear  Mrs.  Waldie." 

"  It  is  all  that  abominable  woman." 

"  Yes,  and  that  foolish  old  man." 

"You  are  right,  and  it  would  be  absurd  in  us  now, 
wouldn't  it,  Clara  dear?" 

"  It  would  indeed,  my  dear  Kitty,  and  I  am  quite  ashamed 
to  think  of  it.  Come  up  to  my  room  now.  I  want  to  show 
you  a  pattern  from  Stewart's — the  sweetest  thing  for  a  Dolly 
Varden  you  ever  did  see.  The  clerk  told  me  that  Mrs.  Strug 
gles  took  a  dress  off  it,  and  she,  you  know,  is  the  very  tip 
top  of  fashion." 

Luther's  letter  was  from  the  Captain,  and  contained  only 
a  few  characteristic  lines  : 
"  MY  DEAR  BOY  : 

"  When  a  sailor  has  fairly  passed  the  '  roaring  forties  '  on  the 
voyage  of  life,  and  got  down  into  the  horse  latitudes,  say  about 
forty-five,  he  may  reasonably  look  out  for  fine  weather  and 
smooth  sailing,  and  can  all  the  better  enjoy  the  pleasure  and 
comfort  of  a  nice  trim  consort  to  share  with  him  the  pleasures 
of  the  voyage.  Now,  that  is  my  case  exactly.  I  have  run 
over  my  reckoning  and  made  my  observations,  and  find 
latitude  and  longitude  all  right.  There  are  no  shoals 
near,  and  I  shall  have  plenty  of  sea-room.  I  have  concluded, 
then,  to  take  a  pull  on  my  weather  braces  and  square  away 
for  the  gulf  of  matrimony.  I  don't  know  much  about  the 
navigation.  I  hear  that  there  are  plenty  of  rocks  and  shoals, 
but  I  have  known  several  fellows  who  have  tried  a  cruise  in 
those  waters,  and  their  crafts  have  been  so  finely  moulded, 
and  nicely  ballasted,  and  skilfully  handled,  that,  although 
compelled,  in  some  cases,  to  push  out  dead  to  windward,  they 
have  stood  on  to  Felicity  Point,  when  they  eased  off  their 
sheets,  caught  the  favorable  domestic  breezes,  and  have  come 
back  again  loaded  with  happiness  enough  to  last  for  life. 

"  In  my  case,  I  have,  perhaps,  like  all  mariners  in  .strange 
seas,  felt  a  little  dubious.  Like  old  Captain  Snyddle,  when 
the  sea-serpent  flopped  his  tail — that  is,  the  serpent's  tail — 


NEVER  AGAIN.  689 

over  the  bulwarks,  right  into  the  oil  kettles,  I  was  dubious 
whether  to  try  or  not.  But  I  have  decided  ;  and  these  few 
lines  are  to  announce  that  Miss  Jones  has  consented  to  the 
voyage  matrimonial  with  me.  If  everything  goes  right  we 
will  be  spliced  upon  my  return,  when  I  hope  to  receive  your 
congratulations  and  those  of  Mr.  Whoppers. 

"  I  am  sorry  not  to  have  seen  you  before  getting  off;  but 
the  Spoondrift  can't  wait,  and  the  sooner  I  go  the  sooner  I 
shall  return,  not  only  to  the  girl  I  leave  behind  me,  but  to  the 
young  friend  whom  I  love  so  dearly,  and  in  whose  love  I  shall 
hope  ever  to  remain,  your 

"  Most  obliged  servant  to  command." 

Luther  seized  the  plump  hand  of  Miss  Jones,  and  shook  it 
heartily.  "  My  dear  Miss  Jones,  I  don't  know  how  to  express 
my  congratulations  in  language  strong  enough.  You've  got  the 
best  man  in  the  world." 

"  But  men  are  such  deceivers,"  simpered  Miss  Jones. 

"  So  they  are,"  replied  Luther,  "  and  you'll  find  the  Cap 
tain  one  of  them.  He'll  deceive  you.  You'll  find  him  a 
thousand  times  better  than  he  pretends  or  you  can  think.  You 
ought  to  be  a  happy  woman." 

"  Oh,  I  am — too  happy  ! — too  happy  ! — except  when  the 
wind  blows  ;  then  I  am  so  miserable." 

"  Ha !  sets  the  wind  in  that  quarter  ? "  puts  in  Mr.  Whop 
pers.  "  My  dear  Miss  Jones,  you  should  say  '  Blow,  winds, 
and  crack  your  cheeks !  there  is  a  little  cherub  that  sits  up 
aloft  that  keeps  watch  over  the  life  of  poor  Jack.'  But  I  sup 
pose  you  would  prefer  to  sing,  '  Breathe  soft,  ye  winds ;  ye 
waves,  in  silence  sleep.'  But,  at  any  rate,  you  should  comfort 
yourself  when  the  wind  blows  fiercest,  that  perhaps  it  '  sits 
in  the  shoulder  of  his  sail^  and  is  bravely  distending  the 
courses  and  royals  of  eager  love.  Wait  but  a  little,  and  the 
favoring  winds  will  waft  him  to  your  feet ;  and  then — then — 
you  can  wind  him  around  your  finger,  and  you'll  never  be  so 
cruel  as  to  let  that  wind  wreck  his  fairest  hopes." 

How  long  Mr.  Whoppers  would  have  run  on  with  his  non 
sense  there  is  no  telling,  but  it  was  time  for  Luther  to  go 
round  to  Wooster  Street  for  a  visit  to  Madame  Steignitz,  and 
44 


690  NEVER  AGAIN. 

he  carried  Mr.  Whoppers  off  with  him.  but  he  himself  was 
not  destined  to  get  rid  of  the  editor  so  easily. 

"  You  must  come  up  to  my  room  ;  I  want  to  read  you 
something.  You  must  know  I  sat  up  till  three  o:clock  this 
morning — although  I  was  tired  to  death  with  our  railroad  ride 
— writing  the  first  chapter  of  my  novel.  Remember  I  told 
you  that  I  think  incongruity  one  of  the  first  elements  of  a 
good  story,  and  that  it  has  never  been  properly  worked.  I 
can't  get  the  fellows  to  do  it.  so  I  have  to  do  it  myself.  Mak 
ing  a  Persian  Emperor  talk  like  a  New  York  soap-fat  man,  or 
the  ancient  Queen  of  Palmyra  act  and  think  like  a  boarding- 
school  miss,  is  all  very  well  as  far  as  it  goes,  but  the  incidents 
are  so  poor  and  commonplace — no  invention,  no  style,  no 
natural  and  easy  development  of  an  incomprehensible  incon 
gruity.  Those  kind  of  things  do  for  journals  with  a  large  cir 
culation  in  the  country,  and  I  don't  say  that  they  are  not  very 
fine  and  clever,  but  I  do  say  that  the  incongruous  is  a  mine 
that  has  not  as  yet  been  fully  worked  for  city  circulation. 
Come  up,  come  up  !  I'll  just  read  you  the  first  chapter  ;  it 
won't  take  two  minutes." 

Luther  pleaded  his  engagements.  "  I  haven't  time,  and 
besides,  I  don't  want  to  hear  any  of  your  nonsense." 

"  Ah,  Luther,  I  did  not  expect  that  of  you ;  but  hold  on  a 
moment.  You  won't  ?  Well,  good-bye  ;  give  my  love  to  your 
old  woman,  and  hark  ye !  ask  her  if  she  knows  anything  of 
this  sudden  shift  of  wind  in  Washington  Square." 

Luther  found  his  old  friend  anxiously  expecting  him.  But 
what  a  change  in  her  appearance !  She  seemed  suddenly  to 
have  grown  much  older.  Her  vivacity  of  manner  had  all 
gone  ;  she  had  grown  thin,  and^the  deadly  pallor  of  her  wan 
countenance  was  aggravated  rather  than  relieved  by  the  bril 
liant  sparkle  of  her  deeply  sunken  eyes. 

Luther  was  shocked,  and  expressed  his  feelings. 

"  Oh,  my  health  is  as  it  should  be,  after  all  those  cursed 
bandits  did  to  me.  But  now  I  shall  get  better — now  I  see 
you  once  more." 

Luther  reproved  her  for  letting  him  go  awav  in  the  belief 


NEVER  AGAIN.  691 

that  she  was  getting  quite  strong,  and  for  not  sending  him 
one  word  as  to  her  health. 

"  Oh,  I  would  not  that  the  old  should  be  exigeant  to  the 
young,"  she  replied  ;  "  and  I  knew  that  you  needed  the  jour 
ney.  I  knew  that  you  had  good  cause  to  wish  for  some  dis 
traction.  Ah  !  ah !  you  think  I  don't  understand,  but  I 
know  the  distance  between  a  young  man  of  no  fortune  and 
a  great  merchant's  daughter.  People  think  that  it  is  only  in 
Europe  that  it  is  so,  because  there  they  are  more  honest  and 
come  right  out,  and  say  '  What  have  you  got  ?  and  how  much 
will  you  give  ?  and  my  daughter  is  worth  so  much.'  But  here 
the  barrier  is  not  so  plain  in  words,  but  just  as  strong — more 
strong  to  a  young  man  of  honor,  because  'tis  not  alone  the 
parents,  but  'tis  the  miserable  society  that  says,  '  No,  no,  you 
have  not  got  the  money — you  must  have  very  much  money. 
She  can  double  her  fortune  with  some  rich  man  ;  you  would 
not  cheat  her — what  you  call  humbug  her — with  your  love 
that  isn't  worth  one  dollar  in  the  market.' " 

The  old  lady  paused,  leaned  her  arms  upon  the  table, 
and  looked  sharply  at  Luther,  who  made  no  reply. 

"  You  see  I  understand,"  she  continued,  "  and  I  under 
stand  more  than  that.  I  have  seen  her." 

"  Seen  who?  "  demanded  Luther. 

"  Miss  Helen  Ledgeral !  Oh,  you  need  say  nothing. 
Did  you  th-nk  that  I  did  not  know — from  the  day  you 
put  your  foot  in  this  house,  three  years  ago,  all  that  pass 
through  your  mind — you  a  garcon  si  doux,  si  brave,  si  beau,  mais 
si-si — green,  what  you  call  innocent,  and  I  a  woman  old  be 
fore  my  time  and  at  your  age  already  si  rusee — et  si  instruite 
dans  tous  les  mysteres  du  cceur.  Ah,  I  should  be  an  old 
fool  if  I  could  not  read  you  like  a  book.  Oh  you  need  not 
blush  or  grow  angry.  I  read  you,  but  I  read  nothing  but 
what  is  good ;  and  oh,  I  have  read  so  much  in  men's  minds 
that  is  very  bad  !  Yes,  I  have  seen  her,  and  I  do  not  wonder 
at  your  despair.  'Twas  all  the  same  as  turning  your  back 
on  a  glimpse  of  Heaven  and  walking  off  towards  the  other 
place,  was  it  not  ?  Well,  well,  I  have  seen  her  and  I  approve. 


692  NEVER   AGAIN. 

Yes,  I  approve.  I  know  what  many  young  girls  are  ;  I  knovr 
how  stupid — how  mesguin,  what  you  call  mean,  all  their  no 
tions  are.  'Tis  bad  in  Europe,  but  it's  worse  here ;  because 
they  have  no  training ;  they  have  some  school  education,  but 
no  training.  They  have  the  vivacity  of  youth — they  can 
dance  and  dress,  and  take  their  share  in  the  poor  little 
badinage  de  socicte,  but  still  they  are  stupid.  They  live  shut 
up  in  their  little  world  of  fashion.  They  think  that  the 
sun  shines  only  to  make  their  bouquets — that  the  good  God 
is  a  kind  of  pastry  cook,  and  that  he  works  only  to  make  bon 
bons  for  them.  They  think  that  the  handsome  little  Johnny, 
or  the  elegant  Billy,  or  the  dancing  Jacky,  are  the  finest 
flowers  of  manhood. 

"  But  she  is  not  one  of  them.  No,  no,  I  have  seen  her. 
I  have  inquired.  No,  she  is  not  one  of  them.  She  is  full 
of  passion  and  feeling — she  has  education — she  has  ideas, 
she  has  simplicity  and  honesty — she  will  grow  into  a  woman 
with  a  large  soul,  and  a  clear  head,  and  a  grand  manner  , 
and  her  set  and  society  at  large,  and  the  world,  may  be,  will 
be  the  better  for  her.  Such  a  woman  must  not  wreck  her 
heart  upon  some  poor  sprig  of  fashion,  who  has  no  soul 
beyond  the  horse-race,  the  billiard-table,  the  drive  in  the 
park,  or  the  silly  figures  of  the  cotillion.  What  you  think, 
eh?" 

Luther  had  listened  in  silent  wonder  to  Madame's  voluble 
flow  of  almost  pure  English,  but  as  his  fancy  yielded  to  the 
picture  her  words  conjured  up,  he  dropped  his  head  upon 
the  table  and  fairly  groaned  aloud. 

"  Come,  come,  my  dear  boy,"  exclaimed  Madame,  running 
her  little  delicate  hand  through  his  brown  locks.  "  Come ! 
come !  you  are  not  one  of  those  foolish  fellows  that  think 
there  is  nothing  in  the  world  but  love — not  one  of  those 
silly  fellows  that  the  women  writers  put  so  much  into  their 
novels.  Oh,  I  read  them  a  good  many  times,  when  I  am 
alone,  and  I  say  '  Bah  !  you  foolish  women,  you  do  not  know 
the  men.  You  have  not  seen  so  much  of  them  as  I.  You 
do  not  know  that  the  man  whose  love  is  the  biggest  and  the 


NEVER  AGAIN.  693 

strongest  has  plenty  of  other  things  in  his  mind,  besides 
his  love.'  No !  you  are  not  one  of  them !  But  courage. 
The  sky  shall  brighten  soon  !  " 

Luther  roused  himself,  and,  suddenly  recollecting  his  dirt 
ner  invitation,  put  the  inquiry  that  Mr.  Whoppers  had  sug 
gested.  But  the  old  woman  turned  his  question  by  a  series 
of  rapid  and  voluble  inquiries  in  her  turn. 

"  Well,  well,  I  know  nothing — I  can  say  nothing  ;  but 
did  I  not  say  that  the  sky  shall  brighten  soon  ?  Nous  verrons, 
nous  verrons" 

And  Luther  was  compelled  to  content  himself  with  her 
"  nous  verrons "  and  a  profusion  of  significant  words  and 
winks. 

"  I  really  believe  Whoppers  is  right,"  muttered  Luther, 
as  he  took  his  departure.  "  She  does  know  something  about  it 
— perhaps  all  about  it.  She  is  a  real  old  witch,  or,  better,  a 
fairy  ;"  and  Luther's  thoughts  wandered  away  to  the  many 
wonderful  things  done  by  fairies,  as  recorded  in  the  authentic 
pages  of  poetry  and  prose  fiction.  Need  it  be  said  that  his 
spirits  rose,  and  rose,  until  he  hardly  knew  which  way  to  turn  ? 
Decidedly  he  would  not  go  down  to  resume  his  stupid  duties 
that  day.  He  would — yes,  he  would  make  a  little  excursion 
across  the  river,  and  have  a  quiet  talk  with  his  old  friend,  Mr. 
Planly,  and  see  how  all  the  inventions  were  coming  on. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Luther  visits  Mr.  Planly — Inventions  of  all  kinds— The  laws  of  Mala 
ria — The  Casa  Planly — A  grand  plan  of  Englishizing  Africa — A  fam 
ily  Dinner-Party. 

"  A  PENNY  for  your  thoughts!"  exclaimed  Luther,  as 
/~V  he  quietly  raised  the  latch  of  Mr.  Planly's  door,  and 
stepped  into  the  room  without  disturbing  the  old  inventor, 
who,  profoundly  buried  in  thought,  had  not  heeded  the  young 
man's  preliminary  tap.  "  A  penny  for  your  thoughts." 

At  the  sound  of  the  pleasant  voice  Mr.  Planly  started  up 
from  his  chair  so  suddenly  that  his  arm  swept  from  the  table 
several  tools,  drawings,  and  pieces  of  modelled  wood.  Grasp 
ing  Luther's  extended  hand,  he  greeted  him  with  a  degree  of 
warmth  that  left  no  doubt  of  a  cordial  appreciation  of  the 
visit. 

"  A  penny  for  your  thoughts." 

"  My  dear  boy,  you  would  be  cheated  at  that  price.  They 
are  not  worth  the  money." 

"They  seemed  to  be  far  enough  away,  at  any  rate,"  said 
Luther. 

"  Yes,  a  thousand  years  ahead,  at  least.  I  was  just  indulg 
ing  imagination  with  an  excursion  into  the  future — pleasurable 
but  profitless — a  kind  of  mental  intoxication  which  I  have 
been  in  the  habit  of  indulging  all  my  life — a  kind  of  intel 
lectual  dissipation  more  wasteful  of  mind  and  soul  power  than 
downright  hard  drinking.  Take  warning,  take  warning,  my 
young  friend,  and  don't  become  a  dreamer.  Seize  the  pass 
ing  moment.  Live  in  the  present,  and  don't  take  up  a  per- 


NEVER  AGAIN.  695 

manent  residence  in  the  future  as  I  have  done,  however  at 
tractive  its  glories  may  be." 

"Well,  to  come  down  to  the  present,"  replied  Luther, 
laughing  ;  "  how  comes  on  the  object-glass  that  I  left  you  at 
work  on  ?  " 

"  Put  aside,  as  usual,  for  the  present." 

"Tired  of  it? — or  wouldn't  the  plan  work?  " 

"  No,  the  usual  difficulty.  I  found  that  I  should  require 
some  platinum  bands  to  strengthen  my  revolving  crucible, 
and  platinum  costs  money  ;  and  so  I'll  just  wait  until  Van- 
derbilt,  or  Stewart,  or  some  other  Croesus,  thinks  proper  to 
do  something  for  science — something  for  the  increase  of 
knowledge,  rather  than  for  its  diffusion." 

"  Well,  you  won't  have  to  wait  long,"  and  Luther  went  on 
to  give  the  astonished  inventor  an  account  of  Mr.  Stichen ;  of 
his  death,  and  the  proviso  in  his  will  for  the  construction  of  a 
telescope  of  at  least  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  focal  length, 
and  with  an  objective  of  corresponding  aperture,  and  made 
of  glass,  prepared  by  Mr.  Planly  himself. 

A  faint  glow  suffused  for  a  moment  the  inventor's  cheeks, 
but  it  rapidly  passed.  He  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand, 
and  mused  for  some  moments  in  silence. 

"  You  don't  seem  to  receive  the  news  as  enthusiastically 
as  I  expected,"  remarked  Luther. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  why  ?  "  replied  Mr.  Planly. 

"  I  have,  by  close  observation  of  myself,  made  a  psycholog 
ical  discovery.  There  is  a  marked  tendency  in  all  minds  to 
periodicity  in  intellectual  movements,  but  this  tendency  is  so 
obscured,  or  thwarted  by  the  will,  or  by  enforced  habits,  that 
in  most  cases  it  is  not  easily  felt  or  perceived.  People  only 
know  that  they  get  .tired  of  certain  trains  of  thought  or 
certain  ideas  after  a  while,  but  they  compel  the  mind  to  go 
on  with  them,  or  to  take  them  up  after  short  intervals  of  rest. 
Now,  as  I  have  no  will,  my  mind  wanders  without  control,  and 
this  law  of  periodicity  shows  itself  in  full  force.  I  am  satis 
fied  that  there  is  a  tendency  to  think  by  monthly  fits,  and  that 
left  to  itself,  the  mind  will  pursue  a  single  idea  or  a  single 


696  NEVER  AGAIN. 

train  of  thought  for  only  that  length  of  time,  and  that  it  will 
recur  to  it  again  only  after  a  similar  interval.  Now  my  mind 
look  up  an  old  and  favorite  subject — the  telescope,  and  for  a 
month  it  had  nothing  in  it  but  an  improved  objective,  but  it 
has  gone  now.  It  will  come  again,  and  perhaps,  again  and 
again,  long  before  anything  can  be  done  under  the  will  of  Mr. 
Stichen." 

"  And  may  I  ask,"  demanded  Luther,  "  what  your  mind 
turned  to  after  it  had  got  through  with  its  monthly  telescope 
fit  ?  Any  of  these  things  ? "  and  Luther  pointed  to  several 
models  apparently  of  shells  for  a  rifled  cannon. 

"  Yes,  just  those.  You  know  what  a  fuss  they  are  making 
over  the  torpedo  system  of  defence — not  only  here,  but  all 
over  the  world.  Well,  it's  all  a  big  humbug  ;  in  fact,  in  view 
of  these  things,  the  biggest  humbug  going.  This  is  what 
I  call  my  torpedo  exterminator.  You  see  here  is  a  shell : 
when  filled  with  powder,  or  dynamite,  this  hole  will  be  stopped 
up  with  a  tightly-fitting  screw  plug,  and  here  in  the  head,  in 
lieu  of  a  fuse  hole,  is  a  cavity  into  which  fits,  as  you  see,  this 
little  piece  of  simple  and  strong  mechanism  ;  the  whole  kept 
firm  and  motionless  by  this  steel  plug.  The  operation  of  the 
thing  is  this  :  You  charge  a  gun  with  this  shell,  and  fire  it ; 
the  powerful  impact  of  the  exploding  charge  draws  back  this 
steel  plug ;  the  little  fly-wheel  is  now  liberated  and  set  in 
motion  by  this  spring ;  the  shell  goes  on  its  way,  strikes  the 
water,  and  sinks  to  the  bottom.  After  an  interval  of  one, 
two  or  five  minutes,  governed  by  the  motions  of  the  fly-wheel 
and  the  fineness  of  the  thread  of  this  screw,  this  little  bolt  is 
liberated,  and,  striking  this  cap,  fires  the  shell  and  explodes 
all  the  torpedoes  in  its  neighborhood,  or  breaks  up  the  wires 
connecting  them  with  the  torpedo  batteries.  Well,  now,  im 
agine  a  fleet  of  English  iron-clads  coming  up  our  harbor. 
There  are  no  forts  or  land-batteries  that  could  stop  them  five 
minutes.  What  we  have  are  not,  and  probably  never  will  be, 
fully  armed  ;  and  even  if  they  were,  the  guns  would  be  good 
for  nothing.  With  our  great  fifteen  and  twenty-inch  smooth 
bores  it  would  be  a  case  of  great  cry  and  little  wool,  as  the 


NEVER  AGAIN.  697 

devil  said  when  he  sheared  the  pig.  Oh,  but  the  torpedoes  ! 
There  is  salvation  for  you  !  and  I  suppose  we  should  have 
time  to  strew  the  channel  with  them.  But  on  come  the  iron 
clads  under  a  cloud  of  torpedo  exterminators  that  would  not 
leave  a  foot  of  mud  in  the  channel  undisturbed,  or  a  gallon 
of  water  that  would  not  have  been  thrown  in  the  air — not  a 
torpedo  unexploded  or  an  electric  wire  intact.  The  same  sys 
tem  can  be  applied  by  boats  at  night,  and  the  exterminator 
laid  down  quietly,  and  its  mechanism  so  arranged  that  the  ex 
plosion  shall  take  place  only  after  an  interval  of  one,  two  or 
three  hours,  or  more." 

"  But  don't  you  think,"  demanded  Luther,  "  that  the  shock 
of  the  discharge  upon  your  exterminators  would  damage  the 
mechanism  upon  which  its  explosion  depends  ?  " 

Mr.  Planly  rubbed  his  hands  together  softly,  and  a  gentle 
smile  of  satisfied  and  triumphant  inventiveness  stole  over  his 
countenance  as  he  replied :  "  Your  objection  is  well  taken, 
but  it  is  a  mere  question  of  mechanical  detail,  and  I  have 
guarded  against  any  danger  of  that  kind,  but" — and  Mr.  Planly 
nodded  his  head  in  a  confidential  way, — "  I  have  another 
plan  to  which  no  such  objection  can  be  made.  You  see  this 
little  globule  of  glass  ?  well,  it  contains  a  certain  fluid.  And 
you  see  this  little  ball  ?  it  is  made  of  certain  chemicals — I 
won't  say,  what.  Well,  I  put  this  glass  globule  and  this  ball 
into  this  tube  perforated  with  holes,  and  screw  it  into  the  head 
of  the  exterminator.  When  fired  from  the  gun  the  impact 
of  the  powder  breaks  the  glass — the  fluid  strikes  the  ball,  and 
in  five  minutes  or  more  the  chemical  action  that  takes  place 
sends  a  flame  through  these  perforations  and  fires  the  con 
tents  of  the  shell.  Suppose  fifty  or  five  hundred  of  these  ex 
terminators  exploding,  many  of  them  simultaneously,  at  the 
bottom  of  our  channel,  how  much  of  our  torpedo  system  would 
be  left  at  the  end  of  a  few  hours  ? " 

"  But  war  never  comes  without  due  notice,  and  of  course 
we  should  have  time  to  prepare  ourselves,"  remonstrated  Lu 
ther. 

"  Have  time  !  but  would  we  avail  ourselves  of  it?     Not  at 


698  NEVER  AGAI.Y. 

all.  Official  routine  and  stolidity  would  stand  in  the  way,  and 
we  might  wake  up  some  day  and  find  our  miserable  torpedo 
system  blown  up  about  our  ears,  and  a  fleet  of  iron-clacls  in 
the  East  and  North  Rivers  demanding,  as  a  penalty  of  ignor 
ance  and  conceit,  a  contribution  of  every  dollar  that  could  be 
raised  in  the  city. 

The  picture  in  all  its  horrors,  of  New  York  under  the  guns 
of  an  enemy,  rose  up  in  Luther's  active  imagination.  He 
heard  and  saw  the  roar  of  cannon,  the  bursting  of  shells,  the 
crackling  of  flaming  houses;  the  fright  and  fury,  the  conster 
nation  and  despair  of  the  maddened  people,  the  excitement 
in  the  "  street,"  the  undignified  hurry-skurry  of  corpulent 
bankers  and  bank  presidents,  and  the  mad  rushing  and  roar 
ing  of  horrified  "  bulls,"  with  one — only  one — dignified  point 
in  the  picture,  but  that,  rivalling  in  interest  the  renowned 
calmness  and  confidence  of  those  brave  old  senators  who, 
when  the  leaguer  pressed  hardest  on  the  gates  of  Rome,  coolly 
bought  and  sold  Tiber  river  lots  beyond  the  walls — that  point 
was  a  party  of  steady  old  "  bears,"  with  Uncle  Daniel  at  their 
head,  sternly  covering  their  shorts. 

He  turned  emphatically  to  Mr.  Planly.  "  Why  don't  you 
show  your  exterminator  at  once  to  the  government  at  Wash 
ington  ? "  he  demanded. 

"  Bah  !  What  would  be  the  use  ?  I  did  make  one  effort. 
During  the  war  I  wrote  offering  to  attempt  clearing  the  har 
bor  of  Charleston,  and  for  reply  g-ot  a  well-turned  compliment 
about  my  genius,  etc. — that  was  all.  No,  I  don't  want  to 
have  anything  to  do  with  governments.  I  had  enough  of 
that  kind  of  work  in  Italy,  with  my  plan  for  eradicating  mala 
ria,  or  counteracting  its  influence." 

"  And  what  was  that  plan  ? "  demanded  Luther. 

The  question  was  an  incautious  one.  In  an  instant  Mr. 
Planly  started  from  his  attitude  of  languid  indifference,  brushed 
back  his  hair  from  his  forehead  with  his  hand,  as  if  brushing 
back  the  cobwebs  from  his  brain,  rolled  his  eyes- — gleaming 
with  a  sudden  light — as  if  taking  a  comprehensive  view  of  all 
creation,  and  opened  his  mouth  at  the  proper  angle  for  a 
torrent  of  talk. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  699 

"  Mind  you,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  have  nothing  to  do  with 
the  origin  and  constitution  of  malaria.  I  have  my  opinion  on 
this  point,  and  a  pretty  strong  one  after  twenty-five  years'  ex 
periment  and  observation." 

"  At  any  rate,"  said  Luther,  "  you  think  that  whatever  it 
is,  it  is  the  result  of  vegetable  decomposition  in  moist  places." 

"  I  think  nothing  of  the  kind.  There  are  objections  to 
this  old  and  nearly  exploded  theory  that  are  insuperable. 
The  low  temperature  at  which  disease  is  frequently  caused ; 
the  unaccountable  productions  of  disease  when  there  is  no  de 
caying  vegetation,  and  no  marsh  or  even  moisture,  as  in  many 
places  in  Peru,  or  the  wood  tracts  of  Nepaul  or  Malwa,  or  in 
the  dryest  and  most  barren  parts  of  the  Maremma  ;  the  ex 
emption  of  certain  places  where  occur  all  the  supposed  ele 
ments,  as  in 'New  South  Wales,  the  Polynesian  Islands; 
the  inexplicable  effects  of  cultivation  in  eradicating  disease, 
and  the  unexplained  vicissitudes  of  health  in  the  same  places 
in  different,  though  similar,  years,  all  forbid  us  to  longer 
entertain  the  old  theory  of  vegetable  decomposition.  Ovo- 
lan,  one  of  the  Fejee  Islands  is  as  volcanic  as  Sardinia,  and 
as  hot  as  the  Maremma,  and  yet  fevers  are  unknown  there; 
Menouf,  is  as  dirty  and  moist  a  city  as  there  is  in  Egypt,  and 
yet  remarkably  healthy  ;  Singapore,  surrounded  by  jungles,  is 
yet  a  sanatorium  for  oriental  invalids. 

"  But,"  continued  Mr.  Planly,  "  all  this  has  nothing  to  do 
with  my  plan.  I  care  not  in  what  it  consists,  or  what  the 
cause.  I  propose  only  to  take  advantage  of  some  of  the  laws 
governing  its  action,  and  the  first  great  law  is  that  it  is  opera 
tive  only  at  night." 

"That  corresponds,  I  believe,  to  popular  opinion,"  said 
Luther. 

"  And  scientific  opinion,  too.  Mitchell  says  malarious 
diseases  are  not  producible  by  exposure  in  sickly  places  dur 
ing  the  daytime  ;  darkness  appears  to  be  essential.  Lancisi, 
from  extensive  observations  in  Italy,  confirms  the  same  idea. 
The  records  of  the  British  and  American  navies  are  full 
of  proof  that  men  visiting  unhealthy  shores  in  the  daytime 


700 


NEVER  AGA1X. 


only  will  not  take  disease,  but  that  sleeping  one  single  night 
ashore  is  almost  certain  death.  I  will  not  keep  you  with 
these  cases,  but  just  listen  to  one  single  instance  that  I 
know  of  myself.  Doctor  Tyrrel,  of  Georgia,  had  some  swamp 
land  which  he  wished  to  reclaim.  A  large  gang  of  negro 
slaves  were  stationed  upon  the  ground,  but  most  of  them  were 
at  once  taken  sick,  and  many  of  them  died.  The  attempt  was 
repeated  several  times  with  the  same  result,  until  Dr.  Tyrrel 
adopted  the  plan  of  removing  the  slaves  a  distance  of  three 
miles  at  sundown,  and  sending  them  to  their  work  after  sun 
rise  in  the  morning.  Not  a  slave  was  taken  sick  after  this. 
They  could  work  in  the  swamp  during  the  day  with  impunity, 
although  it  was  so  deadly  at  night  that  the  acclimated  negro 
could  not  escape  the  contagion. 

"  I  could  produce  a  thousand  proofs,"  continued  Mr. 
Planly,  "  of  the  rigid  universality  of  this  law,  as  well  as  of 
another  fact,  and  that  is,  that  whatever  malaria  may  be, 
it  is  easily  strained  from  the  atmosphere,  and  is  incapable 
of  rising  above  a  very  moderate  height,  say  forty  or  fifty  feet. 
There  is  not  an  intelligent  physician  in  Italy  who  cannot 
produce  facts  enough  from  his  own  observation  to  prove  that 
malaria  is  confined  to  a  low  and  thin  stratum  of  the  atmos 
phere.  A  hedge,  a  low  fence,  frequently  shuts  it  out.  It  is 
safe  to  sleep  on  the  top  of  a  tower  in  the  worst  places  in  the 
Maremma.  Sailors  in  the  tops  of  ships  are  safe,  while  those 
below  are  attacked.  The  writers  on  malaria  all  agree  on  this 
point  with  each  other,  and  with  popular  opinion,  which  makes 
the  highest  apartment  in  an  exposed  house  the  healthiest. 
That  it  can  be  strained  from  the  atmosphere,  there  is  over 
whelming  proof.  Popular  sentiment  and  custom  proves  it. 
McCulloch  says  that  by  surrounding  the  head  with  a  gauze 
veil,  or  canopium,  the  action  of  malaria  is  prevented,  and 
that  it  is  possible  to  sleep  in  the  most  pernicious  parts  of 
Italy  without  hazard  of  fever. 

"  Many  of  the  Spanish  peasants,  when  at  work  in  the  morn 
ing  or  the  evening,  in  the  rice-fields,  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Valencia,  wear  a  helmet  or  head-piece  covered  with 
gauze,  which  completely  shields  the  nose  and  mouth. 


NEVER  AGAIN.  701 

"  In  some  localities  in  the  Western  United  States  it  is  a 
common  custom  to  fill  in  the  windows  on  the  sides  of  the 
house  exposed  to  the  air  of  the  swamps  with  gauze  screens. 
Experience  proves  this  practice  to  be  a  most  effectual 
preventive. 

"  A  gentleman,  who  had  a  large  and  unhealthy  plantation 
at  the  South,  told  me  that  he  had  adopted  the  plan  of  filling 
the  windows  of  his  house  with  gauze  screens,  and  that  he 
had  thus  been  able  to  spend  the  most  unhealthy  seasons  in 
safety. 

"  The  efficacy  of  screens  of  wood  and  shrubbery  has  been 
long  known.  We  learn  from  Theophrastus  that  the  plain  of 
Latium  was  covered,  especially  toward  the  sea,  by  forests 
of  laurel  and  myrtle,  that  served  to  protect  the  country  from 
the  pernicious  southern  winds,  and  to  check  the  propagation 
of  malaria. 

"  Two  young  medical  officers  left  their  ship,  for  a  short  ex 
cursion  of  two  or  three  days  on  Princes  Island  in  the  Gulf 
of  Guinea.  The  famous  Dr.  Kane  was  one  of  them.  One. 
took  the  precaution  of  muffling  his  head  at  night  in  a  thick 
veil,  and  escaped  all  disease.  The  other  could  not  endure 
the  discomfort  of  the  veil,  and  contracted  a  violent  fever. 

"  I  wish  you  had  a  little  time,  and  I  would  give  you  a 
thousand  cases  that  I  have  accumulated,  but  we  will  hurry 
to  the  question  which  I  know  has  occurred  to  you,  whether 
advantage  may  not  be  taken  of  these  laws  to  prevent  the 
injurious  effects  of  malaria,  and  enable  the  most  deadly  soils 
to  be  cultivated  in  safety  ;  and  thus,  in  time,  over  large  districts 
of  country,  to  eradicate  the  evil,  and  destroy  the  destroyer !  " 

"  And  you  really  think  that  that  can  be  done  ? "  de 
manded  Luther. 

'•  Easily.  You  have  only  to  build  malaria-proof  houses — 
something  like  this,"  replied  Mr.  Planly,  running  to  his  desk 
and  pulling  out  an  architectural  drawkig  ;  "  an  air-tight  house 
that  will  accommodate  a  large  body  of  laborers,  with  their 
wives  and  children, — a  kind  of  enclosed  village,  with  all  the 
appurtenances  and  appliances  of  village  life, — and  supplied 


702 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


with  air  from  a  lofty  tower,  furnished  at  the  top  with  ven« 
tilating  windows  filled  in  with  some  kind  of  gauze.  Oh,  I 
have  calculated  all  the  details  ;  the  cost  either  of  iron  or  of 
stone  or  wood  lined  with  tin  plates,  the  amount  of  ventilation 
required,  the  amount  of  steam  or  animal  power  to  give  the 
required  ventilation,  and  every  little  question  of  form,  size 
and  internal  arrangement.  Well,  I  went  out  to  Italy  in  hopes 
of  getting  a  concession  of  malarious  land  large  enough  to  war 
rant  the  formation  of  a  company,  and  the  trial  of  the  experi 
ment  on  a  large  scale.  The  plan  was  received  with  universal 
approbation.  It  was  discussed  in  the  scientific  journals  and 
reported  upon  by  scientific  men,  and  received  the  favorable 
notice  of  members  of  the  government.  You  would  have 
thought,  as  I  did,  that  the  thing  was  in  a  fair  way  to  be  tried. 
Lord  bless  you !  you  know  not,  and  I  hope  you  never  may 
know,  anything  of  the  mysteries  of  Italian  red  tape.  Talk 
of  the  military  burdens  of  Italy  !  It  is  the  civil  service  that 
is  eating  the  heart  out  of  that  great  and  glorious  country  ;  it 
is  the  vast  army  of  under-paid,  hungry  barnacles  that  are  the 
great  drag  upon  the  ship  of  State.  Reform  the  civil  service — • 
dismiss  at  once  a  hundred  thousand  lounging  and  lazy  offi 
cials  who  think  that  they  have  a  vested  right  in  their  useless 
oftices,  and  you'd  see  Italy  come  up  like  a  giant  unchained  ! 
The  people  are  all  right — one  of  the  finest  races  ;  and  I  will 
say  this  for  them — one  of  the  most  industrious  on  the  globe, 
if  they  only  had  fair-play." 

"  In  thinking  of  malaria,"  interposed  Luther,  "  it  is  very 
natural  to  turn  to  Italy  ;  but  I  should  think  that  the  English 
could  best  try  such  an  experiment." 

"  In  India  ?  "  said  Mr.  Planly. 

"  Well,  yes  ;  but  more  particularly  in  Africa.  Think  of  a 
line  of  your  casa  Planlys  extending  directly  into  the  heart  of 
the  country, — easily  defensible  against  any  native  force, — af 
fording  protection  at  night  against  the  climate,  and  carrying 
English  trade  and  English  civilization  into  the  centre  of  an 
active  trading  population." 

Luther  did  think  of  it,  and  his  imagination  at  once  lighted 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


7°3 


up  long  lines  of  malaria-proof  trading-houses  running  up 
the  rivers,  or  extending  directly  through  swamp  and  jungle 
back  from  the  shore,  and  carrying  swarms  of  ruddy-faced 
Englishmen  with  uncongested  livers  into  the  great  marts  of 
Killoam  and  Saccatoo.  He  grew  so  excited,  so  interested, 
that  he  would  have  stayed  all  day  talking  over  the  scheme  with 
its  inventor  had  not  the  thought  of  his  dinner  invitation  come 
into  his  mind.  He  must  hurry  home  and  dress  for  the  great 
occasion  ;  but  it  was  only  at  the  last  moment  that  he  tore 
himself  away  from  Mr.  Planly's  fascinating  plans  and  calcu 
lations. 

Punctual  to  the  hour  of  six,  Luther  and  Mr.  Whoppers  as 
cended  the  steps  of  the  Ledgeral  mansion  and  rang  the  bell. 
The  latter  silent,  almost  speechless,  and  evidently  weighed 
down  in  spirit  by  a  consciousness  of  ignorance — a  feeling  that 
there  might  be  perhaps  several  things  in  the  world  that  even 
he — the  editor  of  the  Universe — could  not  comprehend. 

Promptly  old  Joseph  threw  open  the  door. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ? "  demanded  Mr.  Whoppers  in  a 
confidential  whisper. 

"  Don't  know,  sar ;  'spec  someting  is  gwine  to  happen. 
Can't  say,  sar,  but  I  kinder  hope  dat  Billy  Dugan  is  going  to 
get  his  nose  put  out  of  jint.  Call  me  old  woolly  head,  eh  ?  " 

Mrs.  Ledgeral  received  her  guests  with  an  abstracted  air, 
but  still  politely  ;  in  fact,  cordially.  "  I  need  not  present  you 
Mr.  Lansdale ;  you  know  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Shippen  already,  and 
Mrs.  Struggles  and  Mr.  Gainsby  and  Mr.  Boggs.  I  am  sorry 
that  my  daughter  Laura  is  compelled  to  keep  her  room  this 
everfing,  but  my  daughter  Helen  will  be  down  in  .a  moment.7' 

Luther  had  hardly  finished  his  salutations, — especially  as 
Mrs.  Struggles  hung  on  to  his  hand  with  the  most  affectionate 
interest, — when  Mr.  Ledgeral  entered  the  room.  Barely  nod 
ding  to  Mr.  Whoppers,  he  extended  his  hand  to  Luther  with 
a  bland  impressiveness  that  seldom  characterized  his  manner, 
except  when  shaking  the  hand  of  a  bank  president  during  the 
time  of  a  tight  money-market. 

"  We  shall  have  half  an  hour  before  dinner  is  ready,"  he 


704 


NEVER  AGAIN, 


said,  "  and  I  wish  a  little  conversation  with  you.  Will  you 
walk  into  the  library." 

As  the  door  closed  upon  them,  Luther  recalled  his  first 
visit  to  that  room.  Hardly  three  short  years,  yet  what  a 
change  in  external  circumstances,  and  what  a  still  greater 
change  in  himself !  He  could  not  help  feeling  a  little  excited, 
but  with  a  manner  perfectly  cool  and  collected,  he  seated 
himself,  prepared  to  hear  with  equanimity  anything  the  great 
man  could  say,  even  if  it  should  be  that,  through  Uncle  Ship- 
pen's  recommendation,  his  salary  had  been  doubled. 

In  concise  terms  Mr.  Ledgeral  explained  how  he  had 
found  the  cares  of  business  pressing  upon  him  so  heavily  that 
he  had  resolved  to  take  a  partner ;  that  he  wanted  a  young 
man,  active,  energetic  and  industrious — one  in  whom  he  could 
have  full  confidence ;  that  although  he  (Luther)  was  so  very 
young,  a  great  many  people  might  think  that  he  (Mr.  Ledg 
eral)  was  taking  a  very  imprudent  step,  yet  that  nevertheless 
he  was  so  firmly  assured  of  his  (Luther's)  ability  and  general 
fitness,  that,  inasmuch  as  the  question  of  capital  had  been  fully 
arranged,  he  (Mr.  Ledgeral)  had  selected  him  above  all  others 
for  the  position. 

Here  was  a  communication  unexpected,  overwhelming, 
enough  to  daze  any  young  man  with  a  proper  sense  of  the 
awful  elevation  of  an  old-established,  wealthy  mercantile  firm. 
Luther  sat  speechless  for  some  minutes  while  the  murmur  of 
Whoppers'  silver  sea  and  the  reverberations  of  Whoppers' 
golden  gulf — one  or  both,  once  so  mournful  and  dishearten 
ing — stole  upon  his  senses  as  sweetest  music.  But — but — 
once  on  the  other  side,  would  he  find  the  angel  with  spangled 
wings  and  diamond  slippers  ?  If  not,  why  he  felt  that  he 
could  hardly  say  "  thank  you  "  for  the  ferriage. 

"  You  say,  sir,"  he  replied,  "  that  the  question  of  capital 
has  been  arranged.  I  don't  see  how  that  can  be." 

"Your  friend,  Madame  Steignitz,  has  advanced  the 
money." 

"  Impossible  !"  exclaimed  Luther,  starting  from  his  chair. 

"Nothing  impossible  about  it;  it  has  already  been  paid.' 


NEVER  AGAIN.  705 

"  As  a  loan  to  me  ? " 

"  That  is  as  you  may  settle  between  you,  but  I  rather  think 
as  a  gift." 

"  One  other  question,  sir,  if  you  please.  What  has  become 
of  Count  Isenthal  ?  " 

"  He  has  left  the  city.  There  was  a  time,"  continued  Mr. 
Ledgeral  after  a  pause,  "  when  we  thought  that  he  and  my 
daughter  Helen  might  make  a  match.  Perhaps  you  heard 
the  rumor.  But  that  has  all  passed,  and  he  will  sail  in  a  few 
days  from  California  on  a  trip  around  the  world." 

At  this  instant  old  Joseph  knocked  at  the  door,  and 
announced  that  dinner  was  served. 

Mr.  Ledgeral  led  Luther  across  the  hall  to  the  drawing- 
room.  "My  friends,"  he  exclaimed,  "allow  me  to  present  to 
you  the  new  partner  in  the  house  of  Ledgeral,  Shippen  &  Co. 
Dinner  is  waiting,  and  we  have  no  time  for  congratulations," 
he  continued,  cutting  short  Mrs.  Struggles,  who  was  rushing 
up  to  shake  hands.  "  Mr.  Lansdale,  be  so  good  as  to  give 
your  arm  to  Mrs.  Ledgeral,  and  she  will  show  you  the  way  to 
the  dining-room." 

Whoppers  was  all  in  a  maze,  but  he  did  not  lose  his  pres 
ence  of  mind.  He  dexterously  whipped  around  Mrs.  Strug 
gles,  leaving  her  to  Mr.  Gainsby,  and  offered  his  arm  to 
Aunt  Shippen,  while  Mr.  Ledgeral,  with  Uncle  Shippen  and 
Mr.  Boggs  and  Helen,  brought  up  the  rear. 

A  general  tension  of  feeling  is  often  unfavorable  to  con 
versational  brilliancy.  Even  Mr.  Whoppers,  accustomed  as 
he  was  to  taking  the  lead  in  clearing  away  any  obstructions  to 
the  tide  of  talk,  was  wanting  in  his  usual  vivacity,  and  sat 
almost  silent  until  the  dessert,  when  he  roused  himself  and  let 
slip  a  couple  of  puns,  and  even  proposed  to  Mr.  Ledgeral  a 
conundrum,  which  there  is  no  use  in  giving  here,  as  it  has 
since  gone  the  rounds  of  the  press. 

The  dinner  would,  indeed,  have  been  a  doleful  one,  had 
not  Uncle  Shippen  got  upon  the  physical  regeneration  of  the 
human  race,  and  Mrs.  Struggles  upon  the  demoralization  of 
New  York  society — "  so  much  shoddy,  you  know." 
45 


706  NEVER  AGAIN. 

And  then  came  up  the  subject  of  early  marriages  and  long 
engagements,  upon  which  Aunt  Shippen  was  full  authority. 
She  did  not  approve  of  long  engagements,  but,  on  the  other 
ha^cl,  she  did  not  approve  of  the  very  early  marriages  so  com 
mon  among  our  young  people. 

"  Not  a  day  before  a  girl  is  twenty-one,  and  the  gentleman 
from  two  to  ten  years  older.  Younger  than  that  is  mere  fool 
ishness — they  know  nothing  of  life,  they  can't  know  their 
own  minds." 

"  Yes,"  interposed  Uncle  Shippen,  "  and  I  don't  think 
these  very  early  marriages  can  contribute  towards  the  physi 
cal  regeneration  of  the  human  race." 

"The  'Cardinal's  tears,'  sar,"  whispered  Joseph,  as  he 
filled  Luther's  glass,  and  then  Mr.  Ledgeral  had  to  tell  for 
the  five  hundredth  time  the  singular  circumstances  by  which 
that  very  old  Madeira  had  come  into  his  father's  possession. 

The  ladies  retired,  and  the  gentlemen  soon  followed,  after 
sitting  just  long  enough  to  drink  long  life  and  success  to  the 
new  partner  in  the  firm. 

Luther  made  his  way  into  the  drawing-room  ;  but  why 
should  he  linger  there  with  the  old  ladies — however  polite  and 
condescending  they  might  be  ?  Helen  was  in  the  front  parlor, 
— he  could  see  her  through  the  open  folding-door  turning  over 
some  books  at  the  music-stand.  A  little  internal  tremor,  but  he 
was  resolute,  and  slipped  away  from  Mrs.  Struggles'  clutches 
just  as  she  was  in  the  midst  of  the  latest  fashionable  news — 
the  how  and  the  why  of  the  rupture  between  Sophie  Slangton 
and  old  Joe  Bilkers, — leaving  her  to  expend  her  information 
upon  Mr.  Boggs,  who  had  heard  it  all  ten  days  before,  at  the 
club. 

"  I  haven't  had  a  chance  to  speak  to  you,  Miss  Helen,  all 
this  time." 

What  a  fib !  when  Helen  knew  that  he  had  been  talking 
to  her  with  his  eyes  all  the  time  at  dinner. 

"  How  could  you  ?  "  she  replied.  "  You  know  you  are  the 
great  man  of  the  occasion,  and  the  seat  of  honor  is  next  to 
mamma.  You  seemed  to  have  a  good  deal  of  conversation 
with  her." 


NE  VER  A  GAIN'.  707 

"Your  mamma  was  very  pleasant  and  agreeable,  but — I 
don't  understand  it  at  all." 

"  Nor  I  either,"  said  Helen.  "  I  don't  comprehend  it  at  all 
— it  seems  like  a  dream  ;  but  you  must  know  more  about  it 
than  I  do." 

"  Well,  let  us  sit  down  here,"  replied  Luther,  instinctively 
choosing  a  sofa  quite  hidden  from  view  of  all  in  the  back 
room,  "  and  I  will  tell  you  all  I  know,  and — and — Helen,  you 
will  let  me  tell  you  a  little  of  something  what  I  feel,  won't 
you  ? " 

And  Luther  did  tell  her  all  that  he  knew,  and  was  going 
on  to  tell  her  a  good  deal  that  he  felt  and  hoped,  and  to  assist 
his  explanations  had  secured  her  little  hand  in  one  of  his, 
while  his  other  was  resting  along  the  back  of  the  sofa,  in  very 
great  danger  of  dropping  every  moment  to  her  waist,  when 
Uncle  Shippen,  with  an  enormous  pair  of  open  callipers  in  his 
hand,  bustled  in. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  Oh,  here  you  are.  I  just  want  to  take 
that  measure  over  again— from  the  sulcus  at  the  root  of  the 
nose  to  the  orifice  of  the  ear,  combined  with  the  width  through 
the  centre  of  the  parietals — tremendous !  Look  here,  Mrs . 
Struggles,  look  here,  Sis  ;  tremendous  !  never  saw  the  prin 
ciple  of  longevity  so  strongly  indicated." 

And  there  was  an  end  of  love-making  for  that  evening; 
the  callipers  did  the  business.  Let  us  hope,  for  poor  Luther's 
sake,  that  opportunities,  and  many  of  them,  may  occur  again 
when  no  such  formidable  steel  instruments  may  stand  in  the 
way. 

Luther  and  Mr.  Whoppers  took  their  departure  together. 
As  the  door  closed  behind  them,  Mr.  Whoppers  suddenly 
wheeled  in  front  of  Luther  and  put  both  hands  on  his  breast. 
"  Tell  me,"  he  exclaimed,  "  what  all  this  means  !  " 

"  I  hardly  know  myself,"  replied  Luther;  "  it  is  all  like  a 
dream — perhaps  it  is  a  dream  ;  but  I  believe  I  am  to  be  a 
partner  in  the  firm." 

"  But  how.  and  why  ?  " 

"  Why  you  see  my  old  mere  has  gone  and  done  it.  She 
has  advanced  for  me  the  necessary  capital." 


yo8 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


"  Capital !  I  might  have  known  it.  Fool  that  I  was  to 
doubt  for  an  instant.  Capital  !  that  one  word  has  done  more 
for  me  than  all  the  '  Cardinal's  tears.'  Luther,  you  have 
restored  me  to  myself,"  and  Mr.  Whoppers  seized  his  com 
panion's  hand  and  wrung  it  heartily. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  continued,  "  that  I  was  fool  enough  to 
think  for  a  moment  that  old  Ledgeral  had  discerned  your 
merit,  and  that  purely  out  of  consideration  for  you  and  his 
daughter,  he  had  resolved  to  give  you  a  share  of  his  business 
and  receive  you  as  his  son-in-law  ! — and  I  allowed  myself  to 
be  overwhelmed  by  the  idea  that  there  were  depths  of  mag 
nanimity  and  generosity  and  disinterestedness  which  I  could 
never  fathom.  But  I  am  all  right  now.  That  one  word, 
'  Capital  paid  in,'  restores  my  confidence  in  my  knowledge  of 
human-nature — restores  to  me  the  pleasant  and  profound  con 
nection  of  the  general — I  won't  say  universal,  because  that, 
Luther,  would  be  personal — of  the  general  selfishness,  the 
littleness,  the  meanness  of  humanity.  Never  again,  no, 
never  again  will  I  humbug  myself  in  that  style  ! " 

"  Never  again,  you  precious  old  soft-hearted  humbug ! " 
exclaimed  Luther. 

"  Never  again,  no,  never  again,"  murmured  Mr.  Whoppers, 
and  the  '  Cardinal's  tears'  trembled  in  his  voice. 


CHAPTER   XL. 


TERMINAL. 


~^HE  reader  will  perhaps  be  disappointed  at  finding  that 
JL  the  marriage  which  he  or  she  had  such  a  good  right  to 
expect  has  not  taken  place  yet,  although  it  is  now  two 
years  since  the  date  of  the  little  dinner-party  mentioned  in 
the  last  chapter.  The  fact  is,  Uncle  Shippen  set  his  foot 
down  strong  against  it,  and  Aunt  Shippen  coincided  with  him. 
The  young  people  were  too  young  ;  they  must  wait  full  two 
years.  Not  a  tedious  time  for  Luther  and  Helen,  however. 
They  have  contrived  to  fill  up  the  interval  quite  to  their  own 
satisfaction,  and  we  have  the  authority  of  the  poet  for  the 
fact  that  Time's  footsteps  fall  very  lightly  under  some  cir 
cumstances. 

But  the  season  of  probation  is  evidently  drawing  to  a  close. 
Mrs.  Struggles  had  for  some  time  been  giving  little  confiden. 
tial  nods  and  winks,  and  has  even  been  heard  to  mutter  quite 
positively  something  about  "  early  in  the  spring."  It  would 
never  do  for  us  to  be  more  communicative  than  Mrs.  Strug 
gles.  As  an  atonement,  however,  for  our  reticence,  we  think 
we  can  promise  our  few  unfashionable  readers  invitations  to 
the  church ;  to  the  reception  would  be  perhaps  beyond  our 
influence.  The  fashionable  reader  will  of  course  go  to  the 
house  and  be  ushered  into  the  very  presence  of  the  bride  by 
half-a-dozen  fellows  chanting  epithalamiums  with  wreaths  of 
marjoram  around  their  heads  and  lacs  (f  amour  of  white  rib 
bons  in  their  button-holes. 


7IO  NEVER  AGAIN. 

But  if  compelled  to  disappoint  the  reader  in  relation  to  a 
marriage  so  easily — and,  let  us  hope,  so  earnestly — antici 
pated,  we  more  than  make  up  by  announcing  a  marriage  which 
no  one  could  have  dreamed  of.  The  news  comes  to  us  in  the 
shape  of  a  notice  in  Galignani: 

"  MARRIED — At  the  American  Embassy,  on  the  loth  inst.,  by  the  Rev. 
Mr.  HONEYALL,  Mr.  HAMILTON  L.  BOGGS  to  Mrs.  ELIX.AHKTH  P>. 
STICHEN,  widow  of  the  late-lamented  JOHN  STICHEN  ;  all  of  New  York." 

The  happy  couple  have  taken  passage  in  the  steamer  of 
the  2oth  inst.,  very  much  to  the  delight  of  Mrs.  Struggles,  as 
they  will  arrive  just  in  time  for  her  grand  "Gabble-Gobble" 
on  the  i3th  proximo. 

Another  marriage  we  may  mention,  although  it  is  rather 
an  old  affair — that  of  the  Captain  and  Miss  Jones.  It  is 
more  than  a  year  since  it  took  place — time  enough  for  the 
happy  couple  to  make  a  trip  out  to  Sydney,  New.  South  Wales, 
thence  to  Hong  Kong  and  San  Francisco,  and  so  around 
Cape  Horn,  home.  They  are  now  in  New  York,  and,  as 
boarders  with  the  new  landlady,  Mrs.  Smith,  they  occupy  with 
their  infant  and  nurse  the  identical  second  floor  front  that 
Mrs.  Combings  once  prided  herself  upon  as  the  chief  attrac 
tion  of  her  home.  Whether  the  Captain  will  ever  go  to  sea 
again  is  doubtful.  As  he  says  himself,  he  is  going  to  take  a 
pull  on  his  clew-lines,  and  may  even  go  so  far  as  to  furl  and 
pass  gaskets,  but  that  he  don't  think  he  will  unbend  sails 
and  send  down  spars  yet  awhile.  However,  from  the  way 
he  looks  sometimes  at  that  baby,  it  wouldn't  be  wonderful 
if  he  should  decide  to  strip  to  a  girt-line  and  go  into  ordinary 
for  the  rest  of  his  life. 

Dr.  Droney  has  received  a  call,  and  has  undertaken  the 
duty  of  building  up  a  church  among  the  Pottowatomies. 
Let  us  hope  that  he  may  be  successful.  He  is  a  very  worthy 
man,  and  not  at  all  to  blame  for  a  system,  or  state  of  society, 
that  allows — in  fact  encourages — a  slow,  dull  man  to  slip 
nto  a  calling  that  requires  the  highest  intellect,  the  most 
catholic  spirit  and  the  profoundest  and  most  advanced  learn 
ing,  and  then  starves  him  afterwards  ! 


NEVER   AGAIN. 


711 


Mrs.  Lasher,  however,  is  a  fixture  of  the  house  in  Bleeck- 
er  Street,  and  she  holds  forth  as  learnedly  as  ever ; — the  last 
grand  discovery  in  medicine  is  the  theme.  Listen,  dear 
reader,  for  a  moment.  The  subject  may  not  be  interesting, 
but  you  will  perhaps  get  some  useful  information,  and  we  can 
not  bear  to  let  a  foolish  novel  go  into  the  world  without  car 
rying  on  its  pages  at  least  some  one  little  fact  or  reflection, 
useful  for  mental  edification  or  spiritual  improvement. 

The  Captain  is  listening  good-naturedly,  while  Mrs.  Lasher 
expounds  the  new  system  of  electro-biosopathy,  apropos  of 
some  trouble  in  the  nursery  upstairs. 

"You  say,  Captain,  that  you  doctor  your  sailors  yourself, 
and  that  whenever  any  one  is  sick  you  give  him  a  big  dose  of 
calomel  and  jalop.  Now  I  warn  you,  that  if  you  give  that 
baby  a  big  dose  of  calomel  and  jalop,  you  will  be  sorry  for  it. 
Let  me  urge  you  to  try  the  electro-biosopathic  system  of 
treatment.  It  is  better  than  allopathy — it  is  better  even  than 
homoeopathy.  It  requires  no  medicine  at  all,  and  the  cures 
are  wonderful.  The  theory  of  it  is  so  reasonable,  and  the 
practice  of  it  so  simple,  that  it  is  astonishing  it  has  not  been 
introduced  sooner.  It  is  just  the  application  of  humanized 
magnets  to  the  diseased  organ.  It  is  the  latest  discovery  of 
the  great  Dr.  Quackenhammer.  You  see  he  found  by  wind 
ing  the  human  body  with  many  turns  of  covered  copper  wire, 
and  then  sending  tlie  galvanic  fluid  from  a  powerful  battery 
through  this  wire,  that  the  body  is  rendered  strongly  magnetic. 
It  at  once  occurred  to  him  that,  by  means  of  a  series  of  human 
magnets,  the  magnetic  influence  might  be  converted  into  vitali- 
cal  force,  and  applied  to  the  cure  of  disease.  He  arranges 
his  human  magnets  in  pairs — male  and  female,  always 
selecting,  of  course,  strong,  healthy  persons.  They  join 
hands — a  female  and  a  male,  alternately — to  the  number  of 
five,  six,  or  more  pairs.  The  patient  is  placed  between  the 
two  ends  of  this  vitalical  chain.  The  polar  couple  now  clasp 
or  press  their  free  hands  upon  either  side  of  the  diseased  por 
tion  of  the  patient's  body  and  the  circuit  is  complete.  The 
galvanir  influence  is  sent  through  the  wire — each  member  of 


712 


NEVER  AGAIN. 


the  chain  is  converted  into  a  magnet:  this  human  magnetism 
at  once  begins  to  run  through  the  diseased  portion  or  organ, 
and  is  instantly,  as  it  stands  to  reason,  converted  into  vital ical 
force:  any  one  can  see  at  once  that  it  must  operate  in  this 
way.  It  works  like  a  charm — nothing  can  resist  the  influence 
of  this  vis  vitce.  The  most  stubborn  diseases  yield  almost 
instantly  to  this  current  of  vitalical  force,  which  can  be  in 
creased  to  any  extent  by  increasing  the  number  of  magnets. 
Why  there  was  one  old  fellow  who  had  had  an  enlarged  and 
congested  liver  for  forty  years.  The  doctor  went  up  to  seven 
couple  with  no  effect.  '  I'll  fetch  that  liver  down,'  said  the 
doctor,  'if  it  takes  fourteen  couple,'  and  it  did.  It  took  four 
teen  couple ;  but  that  liver  collapsed  after  three  sittings  to  a 
highly  healthy  and  normal  condition." 

Mrs.  Lasher  cited  a  great  many  wonderful  cases.  We 
don't  vouch  for  them,  but  we  must  say  that  if  one-half  of  them 
only  are  true,  electro-biosopathy  is  indeed  the  greatest  boon 
of  latter-day  science  to  humanity,  and  is  evidently  destined  to 
have  a  great  run. 

"  And  what  has  become  of  Mr.  Whoppers  ? "  asks,  perhaps, 
some  benighted  reader.  Gracious  me,  what  a  question ! 
Don't  everybody  know  how  the  Universe  has  increased  in  cir 
culation,  and  how  its  editor  has  engaged  all  the  talent  in  the 
country  for  its  columns,  and  how  it  has  come  out  in  new  type, 
and  how  it  has  been  recently  enlarged  to  double  its  primitive 
size  ?  If  any  fellow  don't  know  this  he  must  be  a  hopeless 
case — quite  beyond  the  reach  of  the  double-leaded,  reiterative 
advertisement ;  and  not  only  ignorant,  but  a  bad  fellow,  to 
boot — one  who  doesn't  read  regularly  his  daily  Galvanizer,  as 
he  ought  to. 

Madame  Steignitz  still  dwells  in  her  little  attic  ;  no  persua 
sion  can  induce  her  to  change.  Helen  visits  her  frequently, 
and  upon  one  occasion  urged  that  she  should  take  a  more 
comfortable,  if  not  a  more  elegant,  apartment.  "  No,  no,  my 
dear  young  lady,"  replied  Madame  Steignitz,  "  I  know  what 
you  think,  and  it  is  very  good  in  you  to  think  so,  but  it  can 
not  be.  I  am  a  poor  old  woman.  This  place  is  good  enough 


NEVER  AGAIN.  713 

for  me,  and  besides,  it  will  not  be  long  before  I  shall  be 
lodged  just  as  well  any  queen." 

The  old  lady  is  evidently  failing  fast.  We  are  very  sorry, 
and  hope  the  reader  is,  too,  especially  as  there  will  be  no 
great  consolation  in  reading  her  will,  inasmuch  as  it  is  well 
understood  that,  after  a  few  trifling  legacies  to  benevolent 
institutions,  she  leaves  Luther  universal  legatee ;  and  the 
public  can  never  know  exactly  how  rich  she  was.  What  a 
pity !  Nothing,  it  is  universally  admitted,  can  be  more  sooth 
ing  to  the  mind  of  the  sorrowing  general  mourner  over  the 
grave  of  a  millionnaire  than  to  be  informed  by  the  newspapers 
exactly  "  how  fat  he  cuts  up,"  and  it  is  well  known  that  there 
are  half-a-dozen  cases  that  are  daily  watched  for  with  extra 
ordinary  interest.  What  a  pity,  then,  that  such  a  legiti 
mate  curiosity,  very  much  intensified  in  the  case  of  a  very 
rich  woman,  should  be  baulked  by  the  indefinite  terms  of  a 
bequest  in  the  lump  ! 

There  is  not  much  to  add,  unless  it  may  be  something 
which  we  ought  not  to  add,  as  it  is  a  profound  diplomatic 
secret.  But  after  all,  there  is  perhaps  no  harm  in  mentioning 
it,  as  the  English  government  have  succeeded  in  completing 
their  arrangement  with  the  Dutch  government,  by  which  the 
Dutch,  in  return  for  some  concessions  on  the  southern  shore 
of  the  west  African  coast,  have  ceded  to  the  English  all  their 
possessions  on  the  northern  coast  and  the  Gulf  of  Guinea. 
"  Now  what  does  this  mean  ? "  more  than  one  reader  has 
already  asked,  and  no  newspaper — not  even  the  Herald — has 
been  able  to  give  a  satisfactoiy  reply.  But  if  the  reader  could 
see  Luther's  correspondence  with  the  English  government  since 
he  has  so  energetically  taken  up  Mr.  Planly's  project  of  a 
series  of  anti-malarial  caravansaries,  trading-houses  or  forts 
up  and  down  the  Niger,  and  extending  in  lines  back  into  the 
interior  of  a  country  the  richest  in  natural  productions  of  any 
in  the  world,  he  would  not  long  be  in  doubt, — he  would  see 
that  it  simply  means  that  the  English  government,  seeing  the 
practicability  and  vast  importance  of  the  plan,  wants  the  exclu 
sive  control  of  a  long  extent  of  coast  before  commencing  oper- 


714  NEVER  AGAIN. 

ations  for  carrying  a  steady  stream  of  trade  and  tracts — of  the 
comforts  of  civilization  and  the  consolations  of  religion — 
directly  into  the  heart  of  a  benighted  continent. 

Let  us,  as  people  of  the  same  blood  and  language  and 
literature,  hope  that  our  English  cousins  may  succeed  in  this 
great  undertaking.  No  mean  jealousies  now  !  Let  all  miser 
able  prejudices  and  antipathies — if  there  are  any — sink  out 
of  sight,  and  the  petty  feelings  of  a  narrow  nationality  be 
buried  beneath  the  pride  of  race. 

But,  even  as  Americans,  we  are  deeply  interested  in  the 
success  of  our  cousins.  It  cannot  but  inure  to  our  benefit  in 
various  ways,  but  especially  in  this — we  have  achieved  politi 
cal  equality  for  the  negro,  but  we  have  not  as  yet  obtained  for 
him  social  equality.  Who  knows,  though,  what  may  be  done 
for  him  here  when  the  court  circles  of  Timbuctoo  and  Sac- 
catoo  are  once  opened  up  to  our  leaders  of  fashion,  and  inti 
mate  relations  are  established  between  the  ultimates  of  Bos 
ton,  New  York  and  Philadelphia,  and  the  ultimates  of  the 
imperial  cities  of  Dahomey,  Bambarra  and  Dafour? 

If  this  time  ever  arrives,  great  credit  will  unquestionably 
be  due  to  Luther.  Mr.  Planly  is  so  unenergetic  and  so  apa 
thetic  that  he  never  could  have  done  anything  alone.  Luther, 
almost  unaided,  except  by  the  advice  and  sympathy  of  Uncle 
Shippen,  has  so  far,  despite  the  pressure  of  business  in  Bur 
ling  Slip,  succeeded  in  pushing  the  thing  on.  At  one  time  he 
had  hopes  of  interesting  Mr.  Ledgeral,  but  that  gentleman  had 
made  up  his  mind  never  again  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
any  scheme,  plan,  speculation  or  business  of  any  kind  outside 
the  affairs  of  the  firm.  He  listened,  shook  his  head,  and,  in  a 
subdued  but  decisive  tone,  murmured,  "  NEVER  AGAIN  ! " 


THE  END. 


No.  3.  Supplement  to  Catalogue,  Nov.,  1872, 


Or.  P.  PUTNAM  &  SONS' 

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Precaution. 

The  Deerslayer. 

The  Monikins. 

The  Spy. 

The  Two  Admirals. 

Miles  Wallingford. 

The  Pioneers. 

Wing  and  Wing. 

The  Chainbearer. 

The  Pilot. 

Wyandotte. 

Satanstoe. 

Lionel  Lincoln. 

Afloat  and  Ashore. 

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L.i>t  of  the  Mohicans. 

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Red  Rover. 

Wept  of  Wish-ton-  Wish. 

Jack  Tier. 

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Home  as  Found. 

The  Hnivo. 

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The  Pathfinder. 

The  Heidenmauer. 

The  Ways  of  the  Hour. 

Mercedes  of  Castile. 

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